


Off hours

by galaxyostars



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alcohol, All the freaking spoilers, Baby, Biotics, Blood and Injury, Cold, Common Cold, F/M, Family Loss, Hypothermia, I'm not saving you from spoilers, Illness, Misuse of Biotics, Morning Sickness, One Shot Collection, Original Villains, Postpartum Depression, Pre-Mass Effect: Andromeda, Pregnancy, Prodromos, Smut, Spoilers, There's no DLC coming so I'm taking all the liberties I possibly can with this so HA, talk of baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 33,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10508493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyostars/pseuds/galaxyostars
Summary: Being Pathfinder is a lot of work - the reality is, every relationship is impacted by this, both positively and negatively. With Cora? Mm. They were responsible adults.





	1. A tarnished name

**Author's Note:**

> I was getting a bit miffed at the lack of m!Ryder/Cora pairing love so I decided to take matters into my own hands and at least kick it off the ground. This is a collection of one-shots with both foreground and background Coryder.

He'd been dragged here in the middle of the night for an interrogation. An interrogation. _Him_. His bunk had been tossed, his locker's contents strewn across the hallway, his comrades searching for _something, anything_ , with no luck. Now, Scott Ryder stood here in front of his commanding officer, the artificial night of the ship guarding the Mass Relay having wrecked his senses – it was a tactic to get him when he was weak, he knew that, and he refused to let his tiredness show an inch. 

The thing was, though, he had absolutely no idea what any of them were talking about. They could tire him out all they wanted, but he couldn't provide information he simply wasn't aware of.

“Do you or do you not harbour any kind of Artificial Intelligence aboard this ship?” His CO repeated, Scott standing at attention looking directly into the mans eyes.

“ _No_.” He snapped again, hands shaking in both anger and exhaustion from the repeated questioning.  It was 0200 hours, they'd been at this for forty five minutes now with no change, no information as to why he was here. “And I have a right to know _why_ I'm being interrogated like this!”

Finally, after regarding him once more, his CO rested his hands on the desk. “Your father has been charged with the creation of an AI and dishonorably discharged from Alliance service. It is my job to determine if you assisted him, so now is the time to confess to me, son. Do you have on your person research of or an active Artificial Intelligence?”

Had Scott not been standing tall and trying to look as strong as he could, he might have just fallen over. Alec Ryder, the N7, one of the Alliance's best soldiers that had settled nicely on the Citadel, had been _discharged from the Alliance_. 

It was impossible.

And discharged over an _AI_?

His father was a brilliant man - Scott knew that. He may not have known him on a personal level overly well, but throwing himself into the territory of AIs? Alec knew it was illegal, and as brilliant as he may be, Scott had never considered the man to be insane. Had this been why his mother was short with him during their last call together? Had Ellen known and just not said anything?

What about Sara? Did she know about this? Or was her science team doing the exact same thing to her at this very moment?

Voice shaking, Scott addressed his CO after a few moments of silence. “I do not know or, have research of, or  _harbour_ an active AI.”

“Are you _sure-_ ”

“Yes I'm damn well sure!” Scott snapped. “This is _insane_! All of you know that I barely speak two words to my father and you think that I'm in cahoots with him? The Alliance, this Mass Relay – this is my _life_! Why would I jeopardize that for an _AI?_ ”

Scott had thought that he was close to his squad,  that they trusted him with their lives, and that he could trust them with his. But being treated like a common criminal?

When his CO finally allowed him to leave, Scott had been required to return to his locker and pack up what his squad had tossed around, put it back in its place – his bunk, too. This in itself was a punishment, just for being  _related_ to Alec Ryder. Tagoman had tried to lend a hand, being the only member of the squad that had bothered to come and check up on him, but Scott pushed him away. The following two days were riddled with uncertain glances in his direction, his captain watching over him as he cleaned his sniper rifle. Because Alec Ryder was a traitor, and the Ryder clan were suddenly geth sympathizers. 

On the third day, Scott shoved his resignation into his captain's chest, packed his bags, and got onto the next ship to the Citadel. Not a single person on his team tried to stop him.


	2. She was recruited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated to account for ME: Initiation!

His father spoke about the Andromeda Initiative not as a new adventure - not yet, anyway - but as a way to save SAM - as if SAM needed saving. It would take months before he'd finally start addressing the Initiative as everybody had expected him to. His father had thrown himself into SAM, creating "pathfinding guidelines", preparing for what was to come.  
  
Now, they were a few months out from setting off into what Alec Ryder loved to refer to as the "great unknown". And Scott was terrified.  
  
He didn't admit this to his father. And he'd doubt he'd admit it to his sister if she'd decide to show up to the party.  
  
And then he met his father's second in command. Cora Harper, ex-Alliance soldier. He was of the understanding that she'd quit for reasons he wasn't currently aware of, nor was he really willing to ask at present, given that his own parting with the Alliance was still somewhat of a sore spot, but he didn't stop from getting to know her on a professional level. Or, at least, getting to know her when Alec wasn't whisking her away off on some random training tangent.  
  
But, as they settled in for a long night of reviewing protocols and weaponry they'd decided to bring (and the Initiative had packed _a lot_ ), he'd finally built up the courage to ask her about before. "How'd he find you?"  
  
Cora gave him a sideways glance. "Technically, he didn't."  
  
"But the knew about you?"  
  
She gave a small grin, leaning her head back as she thought about what had transpired. "The Alliance doesn't have many biotic soldiers with my capabilities. Makes sense he'd know in advance."

"And you just agreed?" Scott pushed - feeling kind of rude as he did so, but he was curious.

Harper took a deep breath, rubbing her hands together as she considered her words. "I was 'suggested' to the Initiative by my . . . squad leader. I needed a purpose, and the Initiative, _Ryder_ , gave me one."  
  
"So that's why you joined. For a purpose."  
  
There was a part of him that thought she was dumbing down her answers for him, as if she were avoiding giving him the whole story.   
  
"Yes, and no," Cora shook her head. "But I really want to get through these reports, so rain check on this conversation?"

"Sure," Scott smiled. "Rain check."


	3. Crush

“Have you met Lieutenant Harper yet?'

Scott looked up from the datapad, glancing at his sister only briefly before returning to running numbers of weapons shipments. “I've been working with her for a couple of weeks, now. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason, other then the fact that _she's stunning_ ,” Sara emphasized, taking a seat on the desk, looking over her shoulder at him. 

Though Scott had essentially dropped everything and headed to the Citadel in less then a week after his squad had all but abandoned faith in him, Sara had taken more time – and he was honestly surprised she'd shown up at all. Out of the two of them, Sara had done her best to keep her relationship with their father patched and positive, deciding to instead communicate long-distance and keeping in regular contact with Scott and their mother. She'd taken considerably longer to decide to work with him on the Initiative. 

He'd been with her to introduce SAM, and that in itself had . . . mixed results. Sara had been both fascinated, and angry with Alec, and after a few days of having shut herself away to consider her feelings, she reemerged more ready then Scott ever was to throw herself head first into the Initiative.

She'd apparently only just met Cora Harper. 

Scott brushed her comment off. “I hadn't noticed.”

That was a lie. He had noticed. But he'd spent the last three years being the most respectful reconnaissance specialist he could be and he wasn't about to change that because his father had recruited an attractive officer with an impressive work ethic. 

“Oh my God, you've got a crush on her.”

Scott's blue eyes pierced up at his twin, putting the datapad down as he frowned at her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. “You're talking about dad's second in command.”

It was a “neither confirm nor deny” sort of answer, and even though he and his sister were practically joined at the hip, some things he preferred to keep to himself. Especially now that the twins were working together, with their parents, and with one Cora Harper.

“ _So_? We're not in the Alliance – fraternization isn't prohibited here.”

“Sara-”

“Alright, fine,” She threw her hands up, hopping off the desk, beginning her retreat. “I won't tell dad.”

He groaned. “That's a low blow.”

Sara simply laughed, turning away from him completely as she left the small office.


	4. To Ellen Ryder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Updated per ME: Initiation.

Arguments between Sara and Alec Ryder had been common-place since his sister had joined the Initiative. After Ellen's death, Sara had remained strong and steadfast, accepting the reality they now faced - and though she didn't quite show it, Scott knew she was still hurting. They all were.

So when Sara's latest snap at their father had included how disappointed Ellen Ryder would have been in all of them, Scott found himself in pieces.

He hadn't wanted to be. When Sara stormed out of the room, leaving an agitated Alec, he'd done something he hadn't for the first time in years. He actually _hugged_ his father. And Alec responded in kind, as if Scott wasn't the adult he'd been trained to be. Ellen's death just added more water to a dam that was about to break in Scott - it seemed to be something the ex-N7 operative was keenly aware of.

When the door to his quarters slid shut behind him, he was sliding down the bulkhead next to it, wiping tears from his eyes, and then covering those eyes from no one in particular as he shed more. He felt cold. As if someone had ripped his heart from his chest and tried shoving it back in. His family was a mess.

The first step to remaining calm was breathing. For a long while, as he sat here on the ground, curled up tight, it felt like he couldn't breathe. He was still seated there when his door chimed. Scott sighed, closing his eyes briefly before hauling himself up, suddenly weighing twice what he use to. Whoever was at the door could wait while he poured himself a drink, letting his cupboards slam closed as he fished out a glass and a bottle.

The door chimed again when he was halfway through the contents of the glass. “It's open,” He muttered, loud enough for the VI to hear him and allow the door to slide open again. He didn't turn to see who it was – quite frankly, he couldn't care enough to move.

Cora appeared in his view, settling on the other side of the kitchen counter and leaning onto the benchtop, hands clasped together. She didn't speak, didn't try to touch or hold him – hell, she wasn't even looking up at him. She was just . . . there.

After a few moments, he couldn't stand the silence. “She didn't want us there for her last night.”

She glanced up at him, brown eyes soft, but still she didn't speak.

Scott sniffed, taking another swig from his glass. “We thought she'd . . . we thought she'd make it, y'know? That'd she'd make it to cryo stage, she'd wake up in Andromeda, that she'd . . .” He huffed.

“That she'd see new stars,” Cora finished.

His breath was shaky. His hands reached for the bottle again, still shaky, but he failed to pour. Cora took both his hands to steady them, Scott's eyes closing as she pulled away the bottle.

“I just . . . we need time. And we don't have it.”

“I get it,” She said quietly, filling up his glass for him. Once it was filled, she reached over the bench to grab at a second glass on the sink, glancing over the label. “You drink elasa?”

“Seemed appropriate.”

Core gave a quiet huff of agreement, her glass filled with the asari liquor. She held it up, motioning for Scott to do the same. “To Ellen Ryder. She was a hell of a woman.”

“A helluva mother, too,” Scott said, clinking their glasses. He took a full swig, downing the glass in one go, ignoring Cora's far more moderate intake.

It was just silence for a few more moments, Scott refilling his drink, Cora taking mild sips from her single glass.

Finally, when the bottle was empty, she took his glass from him. “Take the week, Scott. Don't worry about the inventory – I'll handle it. You and your family need to sort this out.”

“No offense to dad and Sara, but . . .” Scott shrugged. “Mom was the glue that held us together. I don't see this having a happy ending right now.”


	5. Fourteenth of February (NEW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines day!

Cora Harper usually woke at around 0530 hours, the first awake and to greet Kallo, completing her basic exercise routine before the others got up and made a racket. Then, she'd make herself breakfast, successfully retreating before Drack made his way into the galley and demanded some serious protein – the smell of which would likely be an assault to her senses, as per almost every krogan cuisine Drack made.

This morning, however, was different.

She hadn't made it a habit of sleeping exclusively in the Pathfinder's quarters – she liked to keep up some semblance of independence aboard the Tempest, opting to remain as professional as possible while they were still feeling out their relationship. When it came down to it, they needed to have their shit together when they went up against the Archon, and if this thing between them came crumbling down, who knows what kind of problems it might cause.

So when she awoke to find Scott Ryder, whom usually had his sleep regulated by SAM, missing from his bed at 0535, she found herself quite puzzled. Not only had he by some miracle managed to _not_ wake her – even the smallest bump in the night jolted the huntress awake, which meant Liam's snoring had forced her to wear ear plugs when sleeping in the crew quarters – but he was generally not a morning person. Scott had been trained as a sniper, his shifts during the dead of night. He stayed up until the early hours of the morning, and slept like the dead until his next shift, and he'd never truly need SAM to keep his sleep in check until they'd come across the kett's experiments on the angara – a whole other issue entirely.

They almost had polar opposite body clocks, which was, on occasion, handy. Cora handled early morning rotations, Scott handled afternoon unless otherwise required – and unfortunately for him being in a new galaxy, this was quite often.

Cora sat up from her pillow, peering around the quarters, failing to see him on the couch or at his desk. It was possible he'd simply gone to the bathroom. No matter. With a huff, the biotic got out of bed, throwing on her training gear.

She crept through the door of his quarters, taking an immediate left to enter the galley and-

“Good morning!”

There was Scott, still in his sleepwear, standing at the bench putting together breakfast. Or, rather, his own breakfast – what _she_ usually had in the morning was already on the table waiting for her.

“Uh . . . good morning . . .” She frowned, moving to take a seat at the table. “I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but . . . what are you doing up so early?”

“Well, according to the Earth calendar, today is the fourteenth of February.”

Cora blinked, picking up her spoon and taking a mouthful from her bowl. Once she'd swallowed, she glanced back up to the Pathfinder. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

The Pathfinder froze, turning just a little to stare at her with the knife only half-way through his sandwich. “February fourteenth. You don't know what February fourteenth is?”

“I grew up on a freighter.”

“It's _Valentines day_ , Cora! How do you not know what Valentines day is?”

“. . . I grew up on a freighter." She repeated. "I'm not actually _from_ Earth, Scott.”

With a small smile, he huffed and shook his head, finishing his slicing of his sandwich before placing it on the table. “Well, I guess if you don't know what Valentines day is, there's really no need for _this_.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, he bopped her on the nose with a red flower.

No, wait. A red _rose_.

Or something that _looked_ like a red rose.

She took it from his hand, nose against it. “ _What- how_ did you _find_ this?!”

“I'd love to tell you, but it'd ruin the fun.”

“You spoke to Jaal, didn't you?”

“Okay, we gotta talk about yours taking gifts-”

She bopped him on the nose with the flower head, as he did to her, with a smile. “I love it. Thank you.”

Scott returned her smile, leaning over the table to kiss her. “I'm glad.”

“Still doesn't explain why you're up early.” Cora pointed out.

He sighed, taking one half of his sandwich in his hand, speaking matter-of-factly. “Today is a day of romance. Since we're not exactly _equipped_ for romance per se, I'm . . . substituting where I can.”

“You got up at 0530 for _romance_?”

“For good reason. This is the only time the galley is free from the others potentially walking in unannounced. Since I can't take the Nomad out to a nice and quiet place right now, I wanted to at least share a quiet breakfast with my girlfriend, before the chaos starts.”

“I appreciate that.” Cora said, carefully placing the rose-like flower down onto the table to finish up her breakfast.

He shook his head with another smile, biting into his sandwich. “I still can't believe that you, of all people, don't know what Valentines day is.

 


	6. Threat

“ _Fleet Admiral Steven Hackett has declared threat condition saber one. Enemy presence confirmed in Sol system. Earth under reaper attack - I say again, reaper attack is underway-_

“ _This is Palavan command to all turian units within range: under catastrophic reaper attack. Primarch Fedorian is dead. Ground units are searching for the next in succession. Will advise when- EVERYBODY GET DOWN-_ ”

“Sam, turn it off.”

The AI complied to Cora's command, Scott turning his head vaguely in her direction in recognition of her entering the pathfinder's quarters. She'd caught him at his desk, going over his father's logs about the benefactor, about the so-called “reapers”, his brief conversations to Garson (being that she'd never live to hear what he'd have to say when he woke up). He'd had SAM run an additional analysis on the quarters Garson had been found in, hoping to find any kind of clue as to whom her killer might have been. 

He'd even tried researching the reapers, but given he was a few centuries behind the time and a galaxy away, resources were short. There was no reference to any reapers outside of Alec Ryder's logs. To be honest, it both angered and depressed him. When Liara T'soni's notes turned up an additional load of nothing, he'd resulted to interrogating his fathers' second in command: Cora, whom also knew nothing about everything he'd wanted to know. 

That had been a bad day for their relationship, but one they'd ultimately managed to move past once he realized that his trust in her was not in jeopardy and he should stop assuming as much.

“You've combed through those logs five times now. Do you really think you'll find anything of value?” Cora asked, kicking off her shoes. 

There was silence for a few moments before he could even attempt to answer her, wiping away a dampness from his eyes.  E ver since he woke up, assumed that his friends, his squad, would have retired and passed away at reasonable ages.  Now, however, he was faced with the reality that most, if not all of his friends, squad, and extended family had died shortly after their departure, as casualties in a war that only three people involved with the Initiative knew about in advance, and told no one about. Nevermind that this Commander Shepard had tried alerting everyone to the danger – this benefactor, Jien Garson, his  _own damn father_ , all of whom were influential people, did next to nothing to assist Shepard, choosing instead to turn tail and run at the first inclination of trouble rather then to stay and fight. Did they even win? Or did the reapers decimate civilization as Scott knows it, leaving no trace of what once was in the Milky Way?

He was having an acute sense of survivors guilt over something that happened six hundred years ago. And he couldn't shake the feeling that they were the last of human kind. 

Did these reapers know they'd left the Milky Way? Would they come after them? If so, how do they, a few thousand colonists with no holistic defense capabilities defeat an adversary that invaded not only the Sol system, but had also managed to invade Palavan, the turian homeworld, in less then a few hours and with perimeter warning whatsoever?

“I can't shake the feeling that trouble is coming our way,” Scott said. “And there's nothing I can do about it. I can't warn anyone without causing mass hysteria, can't bolster our defenses because we don't technically have any – the best I can do is plot an escape route out of Heleus into unexplored territory in the event of the cluster's invasion.”

“And have you?” She asked.

“No. Because past the border, we've got no data. And the Tempest can't retrieve that data because we're needed here.” He sighed, getting up from his chair, walking to his bed and slumping down on it, running a hand through his hair. “If dad hadn't created Sam, if we'd never joined the Initiative, if Garson never brought on that benefactor, if we'd postponed even just a few more days . . .”

Cora gave him a soft glance before laying down alongside him. “I'm hearing a lot of 'ifs'.”

“We missed invasion by less then a year, Cora. We didn't get a casualty confirmation, just that Palavan and Earth were under attack. Leaders died in the first wave. Billions might have been killed in the first few days, meanwhile people with military and leadership experience who could have been a lot of help were tucked away in stasis pods on a wild goose chase.”

“Some might applaud us for it.” She pointed out.

“Not if they find out we knew about the danger.”

She sighed, pressing her face into his shoulder for a few moments before pulling back to look at him. “We don't have the answers to a lot of those questions. But to keep dwelling of 'ifs' or 'maybes' is counter-productive. Lets form those emergency plans. We'll get Liam's professional opinion on colony evacuation, look into the re-use of the stasis pods, fuel for the Nexus and arks FTLs. Kallo and Suvi can send out probes past the cluster's boarder and plot safe paths.”

“We'd have to consider the Outcasts and the angara, too.”

“I don't see Sloane wanting to come with in the face of danger – with the rest of us moving away as a bigger target, she may not need to anyway. But we can discuss with Jaal how their people might proceed in such a threat.”

There was more silence as Scott took a deep breath. “Thank you. For believing me.”

“I see it this way – we left about a year before the reapers invaded the Sol system. Hyperion made it to Heleus about eight months ago. If the reapers don't show up next year, then we have to lower the threat level. Compared to the billions of people in the Milky Way, a few thousand doesn't seem worth the chase.”

“Agreed.”

“I'm glad.” She kissed his cheek. “Now get some sleep. We'll talk about this again tomorrow.”


	7. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not completely NSFW, not like some other ones, but just in case, there's your warning.
> 
> Just a short one.

“Favourite part of my body?”

Cora rose her eyebrows at the question, taking a small sip of wine as she considered her answer. Her fingers trailed up his stomach, resting on his bare chest. “Lower half.”

Scott blinked – her answer having been mildly disappointing. “That's it? Just my lower half?”

“'Pelvis' sounded weird in my head,” She explained. “You?”

He shook his head. “I don't have a favourite part.”

She frowned a little, putting the glass down onto the container next to them, grinning. “I know you're trying to be a charmer, but that came off as a back-handed insult.”

“That's not what I mean.”

“I know that, sweetheart. But seriously? Not even my chest? Ass?”

“Oh, they are both glorious qualities of yours,” He said, leaning up to mouth against her bare skin, trailing up to her breasts, his hands resting firmly on her posterior.. “But they're added bonuses.”

Cora was quiet for a few moments, smiling a little to herself as he groped her. Then she shook her head. “No. I'm gonna force you to choose.”

He sighed, pulling back to glance at her, thinking about his next choice of words. Their sex life after Meridian was . . . still early days. They weren't trying to live up to when she 'conned' him back to his quarters, and he had no desire to repeat that exact event. So here they were, currently in a tent illuminated by candles, set up on a hill of Eos. The Nomad outside all locked up, coms off, SAM put to bed. Just the two of them.

“If I'm being forced to pick something . . . I'm gonna say 'biotics',” Scott finally admitted, kissing up Cora's jaw after he did so.

“Why?”

“Because I'm sorry, but your breasts and your behind do not do justice for what you did to my cock last week,” He stated plainly, suddenly reminded that they, a new couple, hadn't had sex in over a week. It wouldn't have been so much of a concern if he didn't remember just how mind blowing the sex had been. “Just thinking about it is giving me a hard on.”

She simply gave a cunning smile, pushing his chest back so that he was once again laid down, sliding her lips down his chest. “Let's take care of that, then.”


	8. Conflict of council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're all crying about Andromeda's no DLC. All of us.

“Scott.”

He didn't bother raising his head, merely giving a 'mmph' sound in Cora's general direction, leaving his head resting on his arms. The Pathfinder was all but slumped across the galley's table, lights dimmed as he waited for meilura to finish boiling over the stove cooker.

“Scott, Sloane's on vidcom for you again.”

“Yep.”

There was silence for a few moments. “So are you going to answer it or should I tell her you're busy?”

Scott sighed, leaning back up and letting a hand run through his hair. “Was she yelling?”

“Does she have a volume that _isn't_ yelling?”

He rolled his eyes, heaving upwards. He nodded towards the boiling meilura. “Can you watch this?”

“Yeah.”

And with a deep breath, he stepped out of the galley, walking down the hallway and climbing up ladders and ramps to reach the vidcom. He took just a few seconds to compose himself before accepting the call, preparing for the onslaught of  _Sloane_ . 

Hair braided, scar ugly and eyes of their own individual colour, the QEC did no justice to her current appearance. This was, however, very likely the first time he'd seen her out of her trademark armor. She must have just gotten up –  even Kadaran queens needed sleep.

“Sloane,” Scott greeted. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You can tell me why I just got a call from Tann about renegotiating Ditaeon's protection fee.”

Ah shit.  Somebody complained to Tann. 

“I told you I wasn't dealing with Tann.” She continued. “We _agreed_ that our relationship only exists between the Outcasts and-”

“Ditaeon, I know, Sloane. I'm not the one that called him in.”

“Then I suggest you deal with this problem.”

“Sloane, I'm not your puppet. If you ever have a problem with Ditaeon, I come in and mediate. That is my job for Kadara.” He crossed his arms. “But if Tann or Addison call you up one morning, stop crying to me.”

“I come to you so that we avoid a conflict Ditaeon might not like.”

Scott leaned against the table. “Are you threatening my colony? Over an argument with _Tann?_ Last I checked, the Outcasts' numbers were a tad lower then APEX numbers – you don't want to test me right now, because I will crush you like an ant.” He snapped, much to Sloane's apparent shock, but she recovered fairly quickly. “Our agreement is mutually beneficial. Don't throw that away for an armed conflict because you got pissy that a salarian called you up early one morning.”

“So you'll tell your Initiative's leadership to stay the hell away?”

It took him everything not to roll his eyes as the comment. Despite having threatened Kadara Port with the hellfire of APEX, she still seemed to believe that she was in complete control of this entire arrangement they had going. He could either push the point, roll over or ignore her completely. Scott was even half-tempted to just cut her off and go back to eat dinner (which was probably cooked by now, damn it Sloane). 

She hadn't exactly explained what Tann had wanted, but he assumed it was due to Ditaeon's supply to the Nexus – or, rather, a lack thereof. Christmas Tate, Ditaeon's 'elderly' mayor, had preferred stockpiling over trying to sustain the Outcasts, the Nexus, _and_ Ditaeon. Add Voeld's recent water crisis (water crisis, on an _iced planet_ ), with Ditaeon agreeing to send additional water supplies, and there just wasn't enough to go around. 

Tann was starting to be just a little selfish, if not indecisive, if Scott did say so himself. Yes, they could hardly wait for colonists to be awoken from their stasis pods and placed into colonies – gods know they were all looking forward to that – but he also wanted the Nexus to be the primary point of concern. Nexus was to be considered Andromeda's Citadel, and despite Tann's best efforts, the angara were still uncertain as to what exactly that entailed – it took time before the asari combined efforts with the salarians and the turians to create the Citadel council, a small fact that Tann seemed to have completely forgotten about, possibly due to his salarian nature to just have everything done immediately. Trade also had to flow through the Nexus, but given that the only other species in the Heleus Cluster included only the angara and the kett, trade was in short supply. 

It also didn't matter that most of the Nexus wanted Tann out of the director position. He wasn't exactly doing anything good for his image, but neither was the council about to hold an election for his position. Much to everyone's mutual disappointment.  


“I'll tell Addison to keep Tann on a shorter leash, but in the meantime, I expect you to stop acting like a child. The least you can do is hang up on him. Stop crying to me every time they irritate you.” He took a step back, finger on the 'end call' button. “I don't care what Tann said – until such time Tate comes to me to negotiate a change to what we've got going, then nothing at all changes.”

“Agreed, Pathfinder.”

Scott didn't bother to say goodbye, instead ending the call and giving yet another heavy sigh, leaning forward again to rest both hands on the table. When fingers trailed up his back to run up his neck, his head hung low. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Scott managed to say. “I'm gonna have to talk to Lexi – I think I'm coming down with something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have the worst headache I've ever had in Andromeda.” And given his experiences with remnant technology, this was no small feat. “I think I'm also experiencing some mild homicidal ideation, likely stress related.”

Cora gently pulled him round, embracing him in a warm hug. “Shore leave in two weeks.”

“Yeah, but I have to deal with Outcasts and Nexus officials during those two weeks, so . . .” Scott shrugged, pulling away to look at her, his hands resting on her hips. 

“I think you've dealt with worse.”

He shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I'd just let Reyes take that shot. Would all my problems be solved, or would he have stabbed me in the back? Because I look at what we've got going with Sloane, and I just . . . I can't help but think that every day, Ditaeon's forced to fight another battle with them just to keep up and running.”

There was silence for a moment as Cora pondered his words, nose scrunching just a bit. “I think Reyes is unpredictable. Sloane might be a pain in the ass, but ultimately, that pain in the ass is looking out for her own people. Its just that her morals don't seem to include being against killing and stealing to do that. Reyes sat on the line in between and made his minions do the dirty work. Not that Sloane doesn't do the same thing, but if Sloane's going to stab you, it'll be through your chest, not your back. You'll see it coming.”

“My one saving grace. I'll get to _see_ her kill me.”

Cora frowned. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Scott agreed. “Doesn't mean I don't want to ring her neck every now and then.”

“Apparently there's a long list of people that want to do that. You'll have to get in line.”


	9. Group control

“I believe it would be beneficial if our colonies each had a representative pathfinder', if you will.”

On a good day, he might have simply looked at Tann and turned on his foot to walk out. But he was stuck here, Cora by his side, listening to the Nexus council. Also stuck here was Lumont Hayjer with his second, a rather head-strong female Scott had yet to learn the name of; Sarissa Theris, whom had just flicked at Vederia Damali's hands to stop the SIC from fidgeting so much; and Avitus Rix – the only member of the pathfinders whom had yet to take on a second, and seemed to have absolutely no desire to do so. Which, under normal circumstances, Scott would be fine with, but now that they were gearing up to hunt for the quarian ark, he was less then pleased with Rix's stubborn nature and what Scott liked to call a 'complete disregard for the pathfinder protocol' when he was in a bad mood.

There had still been no word from the quarian pathfinder, or any quarian in general, which was concerning, and the council had no intention to pick up the pace, preferring to adhere to the quarian's request (or, rather, _demand_ ) that they stay away. It was actually one of the few things the entire Nexus council agreed on. And it happened to be the most infuriating decision they've ever made.

Now, they were talking about 'pathfinder representation', now that the kett were no longer a priority. Were there still raids? Yes. But at a decreased rate which pleased the APEX team.

“Each of the colonies already _have_ ambassadors and representation,” Sarissa spoke up. “Are you saying that that isn't enough?”

“The chances that it'll improve morale are statistically low, sir,” Hayjer agreed. “This is a waste of our resources and time.”

It was nice to finally have a group of varying power to rival Tann's bad of uncooperative misfits.

“Oh . . . you seem to be under the impression that I'm giving you a choice in the matter,” Tann leaned forward, resting his hands on the round table. “By tomorrow, each pathfinder will have chosen a colony – I'll allow you to work it out amongst yourselves. This colony will be under your protection and will take priority over all operations.”

“That makes no sense,” Vederia muttered.

“I agree,” Cora said. “Nowhere in the pathfinder protocols does it state that a pathfinder must remain latched to the colony. If we start prioritizing colonies over one another, or over defenses, exploration, and negotiation with native cultures, we're never going to get a proper foothold out here.”

Hayjer nodded. “We're supposed to form _new_ colonies.”

“Then I'll have the council prepare a new amendment,” Tann droned. “I rather I wouldn't. I should not have to force you to pick a colony and stay true to it, though I will if you'd prefer.”

Scott shook his head, glancing at the turian pathfinder whom had stayed quiet. Out of the four pathfinders, Avitus and Scott were the most well-versed by virtue of being personally close to two of the book's original authors. The turian may not want to currently abide by them at present, but he wasn't afraid of being hypocritical when he required. Sarissa, too, would back Scott up simply because she thought Tann was an asshole even more then the rest of them, but because of what had happened to Ishara, she'd been forced to stay on his good side. Any chance to lash out at him, she'd take in a heart beat.

And Hayjer was already voicing his opinion, and he was against wasting their resources to do Tann's job.

“Alright,” Scott said, breaking the silence when they'd all looked towards him. “We'll pick colonies to represent, prioritize over our day to day operations. But, as of this point forward, the Nexus council no longer has control of the pathfinding unit.”

Tann blinked, the salarian's eyes widening with shock before he narrowed them at this sudden defiance. “I beg your pardon?”

“We'll watch over each colony individually, and in return, the Nexus council will relinquish control of and sponsor pathfinding operations,” Scott explained, crossing his arms.

“You'd become a rogue organization? Over something as trivial as this?”

“We wouldn't be _rogue,_ we'd be self-managed. I don't think you remember just how much each pathfinder did for their arks before Nexus Control took over.”

“Because that was your job!” Tann exclaimed. “We are simply asking you to prioritize and represent each of the colonies you've established!”

“Well, actually, they're colonies _Ryder_ established,” Hayjer's second pointed out.

“And they're colonies that each have their own leadership and representation without the pathfinders, and all of which _should_ be under Nexus security's protection. Or APEX, really.” Scott added, ignoring the jealous jab at him.

With seven members of the pathfinding teams now ganging up on him, Tann looked like he was fuming in his boots, eyes flickering between all of them. “And this is how you all feel?” He was met by a chorus of head nodding and 'yep' and 'yeah's, his shoulders sinking even further then what his anatomy already allowed. “Alright – if this is what you all agree on, I supposed the council will make do without pathfinder representation for each of the established colonies.”


	10. Missing armour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one.

“Scott, I'm missing a thigh plate.”

“What?” 

“My right thigh plate – it's not in your quarters.”

“Where'd you last see it?”

Cora rolled her eyes as she leaned against the bathroom door, remembering their less then graceful boarding of the Tempest last night. “You took it off me.”

“. . . it might be in the cargo hold.”

She groaned, pushing off from the wall and exiting the bathroom. 'Might be in the cargo hold' – yeah well, if he hadn't just stripped it off in the heat of the moment, maybe she wouldn't have to go face Vetra and Liam Kosta looking for the damn thing and having to explain how exactly she lost it.

And she lost it in a heated rush to both get aboard and get into Scott's quarters. It had been fun at the time, but now it was just a damn chore trying to locate all the pieces.  Next time,  _he_ could go on a witch hunt looking for all the pieces of  _his_ armour.

Cora maneuvered around crates, poked her head under the Nomad, searched up and down the damn cargo hold to no avail.

“Ahem.”

She froze in her steps, eyes clenching shut just for one moment as the chances of her thigh piece remaining undiscovered by the rest of the crew dwindled to zero.

With a quiet sigh, she turned, her shoulders slightly hunched, to see Gil leaning against the top deck's railing. Holding her right thigh piece. “Looking for this?” He asked, with a sly grin on his face. 

“. . . yes.”

Gil laughed, tossing the piece down to her. “Have to be more careful where you, ahem,  _shed your armour_ , Lieutenant.”

She frowned at the comment, but didn't address it directly. “Where'd you find it?”

“It got lodged under the lift. It's made of some tough material, though. You're lucky I didn't have to beat it back into shape.”

“Thanks, Gil.”

“No problem, Lieutenant. Maybe next time you'll leave the undressing till you get back to-”

“Shut it.”


	11. In the cards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot the Star Trek.

“ _I got shot!_ ”

“I'm working on it, Gil.”

Fact of the matter is, he hadn't really expected (nor wanted) this day to end with them carrying Gil onto the Tempest with the man's shoulder bleeding.

Kadara was still a pirate haven – still an exile haven – and was by no means truly safe for any person. They'd been trading for additional parts to repair an old Angaran frigate when the seller got jumpy for no apparent reason, pulled a gun and aimed at the group. Cora had also drawn a weapon, Scott having told Gil to start backing away – Gil, along with Suvi and Kallo, had the least amount of ground combat experience and was not exactly equipped for those types of scenarios. Long story short, the gun fired, Gil got hit, Cora's biotics flaired, and that was all the seller would write for the next few weeks as he recovered from two broken arms and a not-so-great kneecap.

Kadara's medical centre might have been closer, but Scott had no intention of sticking around any longer then they'd had to. Lexi would just have to meet them there, the asari having also left the ship. She hadn't yet returned but was on her way.

And given that the Pathfinder somehow had more first aid experience then people like Liam Kosta _their crisis specialist_ , he was the one currently tweezers deep pulling a bullet out of one Gil Brodie.

“Cora,” He glanced at his 'nurse'. Getting the bullet out was a no-brainer, but patching the engineer up after that? He could put as much pressure on Gil's wound as he liked, but they were fresh out of medigel, the supply shipment to them having been stolen. Otherwise they'd have never made the stop to Kadara to begin with. “Find out how far away Lexi is, please.”

She nodded. “I'll be back before you know it. Hang in there, Gil.”

“I can't tell if I'm dying!” Gil exclaimed, attention now drawn back to Scott. “Can people tell if they're dying? Is that a thing?”

“How would I know?”

“ _You died twice!_ ”

Right.

“I try to forget about being dead,” Scott finally said. “But you're not going to die. It's just a shoulder wound – it missed anything important.”

“Am I supposed to feel woozy then?”

“It's just the drugs, Gil. It's better then feeling cold hard strips of metal pulling out a bigger piece of metal.”

“Ugh.” He faked a gagging sound. “Why'd you tell me that – I feel ill just thinking about it.”

Scott had to hide his chuckle. “Sam, I need an overlay.”

With his omnitool highlighting the innards of the shoulder in question and Gil braced against the bed, Scott finally managed to clasp the bullet stuck in the engineer's shoulder between the two prongs of the tweezers, carefully dragging it back through it's entrance wound much to the distaste of his make-do patient.

“Done.” He dropped the bullet and tweezers down into the tray, now grabbing the soaking towel to start pressure onto the gaping hole, causing the engineer to emit a low groan. “Tell me about Dian. How's he doing?”

“Doing great.” Gil managed to say through grit teeth. “Jill's decided to stay on Eos instead of heading to Meridian.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Something to do with building his immunity up to . . . I don't know. The dirt on Eos, maybe – I honestly don't remember right now.” He glanced down at Scott's hand holding the towel – of which was now starting to stain red. “Ugh – regretting that decision.”

“Let me know if you're going to be sick.”

“Don't say that – I _will_ be sick if you say that.”

Scott couldn't help but smile a little at Gil's 'bullet innocence' as Peebee had called it upon witnessing Scott and Cora helping him onto the Tempest.

“How are you settling in as 'dad'?”

Gil almost laughed, instead going for a small scoff in light of the hole in his shoulder. “It's great. I mean, there were a few times there where I thought I'd fall over in exhaustion. I didn't think a baby would be so much of a handful, but it's been pretty great. Jill's going to be _pissed_ about this though. Getting a hit in the shoulder will not do wonders for my baby-holding skills, no sir.”

“Blame me. Pathfinder's fault for thinking Kadara was a good place to get EPS conduit during your first week back.”

“I've been curious, actually.” Gil said, changing the subject again. “Are you and Cora . . .?”

“Are Cora and I . . . what? You already know we're together. _Everyone_ knows we're together.” He frowned.

The engineer rolled his eyes. “I mean procreating. Have you thought about it? Being Pathfinder and all, it's probably not on your mind as much, but after all this? If there _is_ an 'after', after all this, of course.”

Scott grinned, looking away for a few seconds. “We're . . . passively trying, I guess you could say.”

“Ah. Employing the 'fun' version. I get it.”

“More like it'll be in the cards when _it's in the cards_.”

“Aren't you worried you'll be ill prepared?”

“If we're not prepared, we're not prepared.” Scott shrugged. “That's something we'll have to work through when we have to work through it. We want to start a family, but we're happy with being here on Tempest as well. If baby happens, I plan on grounding the Tempest for long service leave.”

Gil frowned. “Long service leave? You really think Tann will buy that?”

“There are three other pathfinders itching to do what I do with their own ships. The only reason they're not out here was because Tann thought it wise to 'limit resources that can be potentially stolen by exiles'. Hayjer's already told me he's ready and willing to fill in.” He said. “I think my main problem will be you guys. Not sure how Liam or Drack would respond to the ship being grounded. I think they've grown attached.”

“Psh. Liam would be too busy with Sid.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Nothing. Nevermind- Lexi! You're looking mighty blue today!”

The asari crossed her arms, looking down at Gill and peeling the Pathfinder's hand. “I can take it from here, Ryder.”

With another strange glance back at a now incredibly innocent Gil, Scott got up, taking off the gloves he'd been using and binning them, giving Lexi another thanks and an update as to what had happened.

Finally, he turned to Cora in the doorway. “Let's not do that again.”


	12. Could go for that

The amount of times he'd been thrown up against the bulkhead of his own ship by his lover rivaled the amounts of arguments he'd had with Tann – and given that was frequently, the comparative numbers really spoke for themselves. He'd had no problems with Cora deciding that one hour she'd want him disheveled and gasping her name as SAMs logs got turned off. Of course there were times where he just wasn't in the mood – coupled with stress that lasted for days without end no thanks to the coupled problems of their Outcast friends, the typical shit that came with being Pathfinder for what he liked to classify as “dysfunctional leadership” and the never-ending presence of kett that _just won't go away_ , sex was sometimes the last thing on his mind, and Cora respected that. And by God did he respect _Cora_ for that.

Today was definitely not one of those days.

Cora Harper was perfect. The trust they shared on the field was only doubled when they returned to the Tempest. He knew her practically inside out – all those areas that made her tick. Lewd parts of him enjoyed just how well her breasts felt in the palm of his hands, reveled in the sound she made when he sucked that area just behind her earlobe. When his fingers circled the small nub between her legs-

“ _Ryder._ ”

Scott Ryder's eyes flickered up to Vetra Nyx before finally giving her his full attention.  The turian was giving him a concerned look, apparently having been trying for his attention for a few moments there. 

“Sorry, I was . . .” He was just so done talking about the Nomad and the fifth upgrade to it's boost system that he really just wanted Gil back up and running from that shoulder hit so that it'd be handled without the endless questions. “I'm just really tired. Can we talk about this later?”

Her mandibles flexed a few times – if turians had eyebrows, she'd probably be raising one of them. “Sure.”

“Thanks, Vetra.”

With a heavy breath, he'd turned on his heel and headed through the walkway, glad to be leaving the Tempest's cargo hold – not the fault of Vetra, by any means. But it was past the end of the duty shift, it'd been a long day, and quite frankly, there was an incredibly beautiful woman taking food stock in the galley right now. 

He'd entered the galley just as Drack was leaving, Cora's eyes glancing between the datapad in her hands and the open cupboards, hands moving around the packages and removing some to place on the bench. 

“How are the Nomad upgrades coming? Vetra finally decide on something?” Cora asked, still in the strictly-professional mode.

“I think she wants more speed.”

“You _think_?”

Scott sighed. “You're incredibly distracting.”

She put another package back into it's rightful cupboard, glancing at him with a confused smile. “And you are being very confusing. What are you talking about?”

“You know it's well past the end of the shift?”

“I'm just finishing up here. I'll be done in a minute.”

He hated to admit it, but waiting for a minute sounded like a chore he didn't really want to participate in. His arms encircled her waist, lips meeting her neck as she continued to use the datapad.

“You know this won't make me work faster, right?” She said, head tilting slightly.

Scott hummed a response, carefully taking the datapad from her hands and turning her to face him. “I think that's a conversation we should have in my quarters.”

He was about to lean back into her neck when she gave one of her trademark smiles again, fingers walking up his chest in a gentle effort to separate them a bit more. “On a regular day, that would be very tempting.”

Ah – she wasn't up for sex right now. His own libido settled at her words, his embrace of her shifting ever so slightly to account for her disinterest. “That time?”

He winced as Cora flicked his chest at the semi-inappropriate question “No. I am just drained. And starving.”

“Wasn't Drack supposed to cook?”

“He ate out at Chargo's and didn't bring any back.”

“Bastard.”

She laughed. “But you know . . . I wouldn't be opposed to a massage.”

He smiled, leaning forward so that their noses pressed against each other before angling for a kiss. A romantic evening could still be on the cards. “Crack open a bottle of wine, with a heated massage, no interruptions . . . I could definitely go for that.”

“I'll bring the wine.”


	13. One of those days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Weird smut ahead. Lots of talking.
> 
> And Imma leave the real smut to the people who can actually write real smut.

“I'm not trying to complain, but-” He gasped, lips pressing up to her jaw. “Something's changed here. Something's different.”

“Like what?”

Thinking when Cora was seated above him, having enveloped him, knees either side of his pelvis and controlling their movements - it was harder then he'd cared to admit. But there was a noticeable absence of . . . interest? 

Comparing their sexual habits from now to before was a little weird, but valuable. He knew how she ticked, how she'd usually respond when he rubbed her clit just right. Scott leaned up, a hand trailing up her back as he mouthed one of her breasts. She gave a quiet gasp, fingers tangling into his hair, but otherwise, she was even less receptive then she'd been before. 

The power she usually exhibited whilst topping just wasn't present here. Her biotics had flared out of her control as part of her natural response to sex, as opposed to the control she'd usually displayed by channeling them into driving them both crazy. And to be brutally honest? She wasn't as _wet_ as she usually was. Couple that with being both addictively and uncharacteristically tight, he was leaning on bringing it up with her.

Scott rolled them both so that she was laid on the bed, taking the lead. He ran a hand over her thigh, pulling it up over his hips. He gave two tentative thrusts, mainly to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were closed, breathing still elevated, barring her neck for him.

Something was wrong.

“No, I'm calling it.” He kissed her again, a truly deep tongue scraping kiss that felt amazing as he pulled himself out of her.

Scott pulled his head back a little, falling next to her, eyes opening to a frown – of concern – from Cora. “You okay?”

“I'm . . . going to ask you the same thing.” He rose his eyebrows. “I know my sex with you – I _enjoy_ sex with you. But you . . . are weirdly tight right now and I don't think it's doing you any favours.”

In hindsight, that sounded like the most ridiculous sentence he's ever come up with while erect in bed with a sexy biotic, but sex with Cora was more then just the basic 'hit the mattress, thrust, done', it was . . . indescribable. It wasn't about the _sex_ , it was about _Cora_.

And Cora sighed, glancing away for a few seconds. “I noticed, too.”

“What's going on?”

“I just have a lot on my mind.” She gave a weak smile, trailing her fingers up his bicep. “I thought I wanted this tonight.”

“Do you?

Her frown deepened a little, more at herself then at him. “Not anymore.”

There were no apologies - neither of the two needed them. Scott nodded, kissing her cheek before resting his head against her shoulder. “I get it. It's been one of those days,” He breathed.

“Was it as never-ending for you as it was for me?”

“Are you dissing my immaculate performance, Lieutenant Harper? I'm offended.”

She laughed, hand lightly whacking his bare chest. “You know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean,” He said more seriously. “And yes. The politics just didn't stop today.”

Cora hummed in agreement., letting a few more moments pass in silence. She pressed herself up against him, prompting an embrace, Scott's arms wrapping around her and legs tangled once again. No sex, maybe, but sleeping together was still on the table.

“I'm gonna go and see Lexi tomorrow.” She murmured. “I'm a couple weeks late.”

She'd started stealing his heatpacks when she'd found out he'd had them instead of going to Lexi. Apparently duking out cramps with heatpacks and your lover giving a well deserved massage was better then their doctor prescribing pain medication. She hadn't used them last month – given that they'd spent most of what he'd imaged was that time sleeping in the Nomad staking out an eezo mine, he hadn't thought much of it. Actually, he hadn't thought of it at all until she just brought it up.

“Do you think . . .?”

“I think additional exposure to eezo has played havoc with us. You not so much – Sam can counteract that or he would have alerted Lexi if he couldn't.” She gave a small smile.

“Makes sense. But . . .” He glanced back at her. “I'm just curious.”

“You're looking _forward_ to this, aren't you?”

He shrugged. “I'll admit that Gil's got me _maybe_ a bit jealous.”

Cora huffed another laugh with that winning smile. “Just don't get your hopes up right now.”

“Hopes are firmly secured, sir.”


	14. Not at best

“Sam, lights _down_.”

“ _They_ are _down, Pathfinder._ ”

Whoever thought it was a good idea to have a wall-spanning window on the Tempest without including a shutter feature was an absolute clusterfucker and deserved to be strung up staring at the sun for half an hour. Scott's headache – was it even a headache? - was destroying him. 

And Tann was expecting him for a debrief on the Nexus after their second search for the quarian ark. After almost two years, they'd finally received word from the quarian pathfinder. One word. 'Help'. 

Given they'd hardly been able to triangulate even a small area as to where the arc could have been from the single-worded communique, helping them had been a hard task. It'd been over a week since they'd received the word, and still no sign of them. Tempest was to return to the Nexus for a refuel and resupply. Pathfinder Ryder would also be debriefed by the council and give a recommendation.

When he'd returned to the Tempest last night, Scott hadn't been in the best of conditions. SAM had picked up a signal  _resembling_ what they had on record for the ark in question – given that it was their best lead, they were hardly going to ignore a slight resemblance. He, Liam, Vetra and Peebee had returned with their prides hurt along with other various injuries, because the entire time, Drack was saying it was a trap. It was a well done trap. Why would the ark be planet-side?

_Shut up, Drack._

The krogan had laughed and walked off to the galley while the rest of them licked their wounds. 

Scott's wounds in particular included a dislocated shoulder (re-located on the field, thank you Liam), a fractured skull, and a plasma burn that had eaten through his armour and successfully burnt his side. 

So maybe the fractured skull was causing his migraine.  Some painkillers in the next twenty minutes, he'd be fine. He could head up to Nexus Operations, live through the hours Tann and the others would keep him as they debated a course of action, then go back to his Nexus apartment and fall into bed with the hopes his partner would join him. 

Cora had something to say about that, though.  He hadn't made it off the Tempest.  “You're not going anywhere in this condition.”

“I'm fine.”

“No, you're really _not fine_. The only place you're going is the medbay. Tann and Addison can wait.” One of her hands was pushing him in the opposite direction of the  elevator, back down the corridor and towards the medbay.

“Lexi will _jab me again_.”

She sighed, stopping them both in their tracks. Eyes practically closed, shoulders sunken and not at all looking like a Pathfinder at the top of their game. The biotic frowned at him, hands taking either side of his neck, thumbs brushing over the spattering of stubble.

“Scott.”

“Mhm?”

“You're staying on the Tempest.”

He sighed. “Someone has to go to tell the other pathfinders to head out into open space. There are  _people_ missing, probably in danger  and Tann is  _stalling_ -”

“And we're going to do our best to ignore Tann and find them anyway. But you're not at _your_ best. So do your worrying crew, worrying AI, a favour. Go back to bed.  _Recover_. I'll have Lexi com Tann, let her handle him.”

She was right – and he knew she was right. The asari was a force of nature when she wanted to be. There weren't many times when he'd gotten onto her bad side, but damn did she rip Addison to shreds that one time.

“I feel like crap,” He sighed, lightheaded with every muscle in his body aching. If Cora wasn't in front of him with her stabilizing hands, he probably would have collapsed by now. 

“I know you do. And that's why you,” She started tugging him back to his quarters. “-are going back to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering taking prompts to fulfill the empty quota of Cora/M!Ryder stuff, so please, feel free to comment what you wanna see.


	15. The (im)practical use of biotics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is . . . yeah, this is not great, but hey. Here. Have some amateur smut. 
> 
> Also, I've noticed that the archive has been messing with the formatting of the chapters. I'll see if I can fix it as I find it, but coding here is weird.

Relinquishing control of himself after a full day of handing out orders, pulling and pushing people around and out of the line of fire, of telling them all that they'd be fine and that he had it under control – it was surprisingly freeing.

And 'freeing' was a strange word to use when he was essentially strung up off the ground, arms pinned behind his back, by Cora's biotics.

The tingle from that biotic energy was glorious. The concentration coming from her eyes as one had held him in place, another lightly trailing her fingernails down his abdomen. He was throbbing by the time she'd cracked open the lube. He could practically hear the blood rush though his ears, his breathing peaked, eyes focused solely on Cora.

Her lips followed, sucking on a pulse point on his neck, teeth grazing down his chest. That hand wrapping tightly around him, pulling a moan from him.

She was a goddess.

And there was that tightening in his groin, another shot of heat through his body. His hips twitched, despite his confinement. “Cora,” He gasped.

The grip around his cock was removed, replaced with a thumb dragging along from the base to the tip of his length. His breathing picked up again, Cora's nose trailing down to his navel. “Not yet.”

 _Easier said then done_ , he thought vaguely. He was tense, her biotics vibrating against every inch of his body, and he'd been forced to focus on his breathing (which had also been restricted, thank you blue magic) to abide by her rule, so close to that edge. She was driving him crazy with just a draw of her thumb, lips pressing against him, .

“ _Cora_.”

She hummed against his pelvis, eyes glancing up to his. She crawled back up his body, a hand on his chest as she stood eye-to-eye with him. “You feel that?”

That vibration deep into the pit of his stomach? How the biotic energy was now mainly centered around the hand currently placed against his heart? “Hard not to.” He huffed. He wanted to curl his toes – it was an odd sensation, feeling all this while off the ground.

“Ready?”

He tried taking a deeper breath, eyes closing for the time it took before he met her eyes again. “Yeah.”

The thumb that had been circling the head of his cock slid back down to it's base, whole hand grasping him again, tugging at him in a more urgent. He felt that tightening again. “Oh _fuck_ ,”

A long build up had made the spike of ecstasy almost intolerable, his mouth open in a low-voiced cry as he released. Cora let him down easy, biotics leaving him as his back settled on the bed.

Free from Cora's restraint, his lungs took a deeper breath – that warmth from his release that had been dumped into his bloodstream spread a euphoric feeling. He flexed his hands by his side, ears met with a slight sound of movement – his partner cleaning up.

“Okay?” She asked, crawling back onto the bed, still clad in only her underwear – bra highlighting his fourth favourite feature, though in reality, she could have put on a paper bag and he'd have found it attractive on her.

“Yeah,” He breathed. “That . . . I needed that.”

She hummed, lips planting a final kiss against his shoulder as she tucked herself into his side, laying a hand against his chest. He nuzzled her hair, breathing in her scent and closing his eyes.


	16. Malfunction

“ _-finder.”_

Scott took in a sharp breath, eyes opening to his darkened quarters. He frowned – SAM would have turned the lights on if they'd missed the start of the duty shift. He turned over to look at the clock on the bedside table – and promptly returned his head to his pillow.

“Sam, it's 0300 hours,” Scott sighed. “Go back to sleep.”

“ _Pathfinder, I am detecting a third lifeform within your quarters.”_

He groaned, turning over to face Cora's sleeping form again. “I know you're not happy about the hamster, but 3AM is not the time for this conversation.”

As if to prove a point, Scott's scanner mysteriously activated into detection mode, vibrating the implant in his arm. He turned over to his stomach, shoving the arm under his chest. “Don't make me override your protocols. It's way too early for this, Sam.”

His incessant whispering must have woken Cora too, the biotic stirring in her place under blankets. “Everything okay?” She murmured.

“Sam's malfunctioning,” Scott sighed.

“What?”

“I don't know – something about another person in here? Just go back to sleep.”

The asari commando instincts kicked in. “Lights,” She commanded, sitting up and reaching for the alcolyte pistol she'd finished putting together last night, ignoring Scott's second and pained groan as the lights rose. “Sam, where?”

“ _Within your immediate proximity._ ”

The Pathfinder rolled back over onto his back, pulling himself up as Cora started searching under their bed. “Cora, there's no-one here,” He yawned, rubbing his eyes before squinting into the light.

“Humour me.” She threw back to him over her shoulder, getting out of bed.

Though as she started moving away, the vibration in his arm ceased. Scott frowned, flicking at where the implant had been placed for his omnitool. He glanced back at Cora, the biotic searching the room as if she'd been awake for hours beforehand.

None of this made sense. Scott maybe wouldn't have heard or noticed anyone come in, but Cora was a light sleeper – one of the not-so-great perks that came with being part of the asari huntress unit. There was many a time where he woke her up just by opening the door to the quarters. There was no way someone or something could have snuck in without waking her. It was honestly a miracle he hadn't woken her when he responded to SAM the first time.

“Room's clear.” Cora stated, putting the pistol down onto the desk next to the hamster, turning to tap at his SAM base. “You feeling okay, Sam?”

If Scott didn't know any better, he would have said that SAM was rather offended at the question. “ _I am operating under normal parameters, Lieutenant.”_

With a sigh, Scott grabbed the shirt on his bedside table and pulled it on, heaving himself out of the bed to step up behind Cora.

And his scanner vibrated again.

“He's not the only thing malfunctioning.” He huffed, switching on his omnitool to have a glance at the readings before rubbing his eyes again.

Cora took his arm, stepping between him and the omnitool to go over the scanner's programming. “Nothing seems wrong with it.”

“It's still vibrating.”

“I noticed.”

And then it clicked. He pulled his arm away from Cora's grasp to run it over her – just to check a hunch if anything else. Then he switched into scanning mode, running the scanner over his partner without her permission.

“You done with the calibrating, Scott?” Cora crossed her arms.

The Pathfinder glanced up at her, eyes properly open as he stared at his partner, letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Scott was by no means a doctor. During his time in Andromeda, he'd had to undergo some field medic training by necessity, and as the Tempest CO, Lexi had had a long talk with him about the medical profiles (or what she could talk about given doctor/patient confidentiality). But this tested the basic stuff taught in _high school._ “I found Sam's third lifeform.”

“What is it, a parasite?”

If it was any other scenario, if it was anyone else, he'd be chuckling over SAM's interpretation of what he was picking up. He blinked. “I think that's what _Sam_ thinks.”

Cora frowned, stepping back into his arms again to read the data accumulated from his scanner. She ran her fingers through her hair. “An embryo.”

“An embryo,” Scott repeated, a smile stretching across his face as he kissed the top of her head.

She huffed. “Damn that scanner. I haven't even started symptoms yet.”

He chuckled, shutting the omnitool off as he pulled her into a tight hug. “Gives us a head start.”

The biotic pulled away, hands resting against is neck again as their foreheads touched, a smile spreading on her face. “Yeah, it does.” She nodded a little against him. “But it is still way too early to get excited. Everything and anything can still go wrong-”

“Hey,” He took her hands in his, placing a kiss to both. “Conception occurred.”

Cora huffed a laugh, looking away for a few seconds before staring back into those blue eyes, nodding in agreement. “Conception occurred.”


	17. Cold

When they'd run into the power draining anomaly, Kallo had been mortified at Suvi's idea – and Ryder's final decision. They couldn't pass through the anomaly without risking further power drain. And with a collection of rescued drell and quarians in his cargo hold, going around and maneuvering through the Scourge was not a risk he was willing to take right now. They had enough dextro supplies to last them another two weeks, having anticipated the quarian mouths to feed, and the drell were honestly happy among themselves. It was just a relief they hadn't been required to provide for any hanar.

He was starting to rethink his strategy when SAM reported the all-time low temperature of -9 degrees Celsius.

The Tempest ground crew had suited up in their armor – the life support system was equipped well enough to at least give short bursts of warmth when desperately required, not that Drack or Vetra had actually needed it apparently. Liam and Jaal had set up temporary heaters in corners of the hold to assist their new passengers – the drell were relatively alright, minus a few of the younger ones requiring some additional blankets, but the quarians were suffering from suit malfunctions left and right. It was a god-send that their time in stasis had done wonders for their immune system, but Lexi hadn't stopped watching them all like a mother hawk and had ushered out all non-essential crew. Suvi, geared up in her science uniform and having been disinfected to the eyeballs, was assisting.

Peebee had borrowed a jumper from Cora, shivering her way through the night. Kallo seemed perfectly fine somehow, as if his salarian nature had all but made him immune to the cold – or maybe he was just wearing some kind of flightsuit that was keeping his hands warm.

His passengers and most of his crew had been taken care of. Now his main concern was Cora, who, unlike the rest of his team, did not have a heating system in her armor. Though in hindsight, maybe their time on Voeld should have really made that a priority.

“How're you doing?” Scott asked, cosying up next to her on the Tempest's bridge. She'd been up here to keep an eye on the scanners (the only thing, aside from the flight controls, that had power) as Kallo 'glided' them through the anomaly. Given that there was nothing else out here, other than the Scourge and a small boatload of quarians and drell, having her standing here with a hoodie on and three blankets didn't feel worth it.

“Wishing I'd brought my old armor,” She admitted. “Not sure how long I can keep standing in this cold. Floor's freezing, though.”

“Yeah, if the temperature drops any lower, we'll have to look out for ice formations.”

Through her teeth chattering, she made an amused noise akin to the laugh. “The colonists?”

“We've got one kid not doing so well holed up in the drive core with Gil.” Scott glanced at her. “I'm tempted to have you join them.”

“Not sure what it'd do. Drive core is only a couple degrees warmer. Not like it's active right now.”

“Gil will have to give us a boost of speed in another ten minutes or so for us to clear the anomaly,” Kallo chimed in from the flight controls. “It'll be warmer then.”

Scott's hand pressed against her forehead. Against what he thought her reaction would be, she leaned _into_ the touch. “Cora, you're not even giving off any body heat.”

“ _Lieutenant Harper's core temperature is becoming dangerously low._ ” SAM added – and if Scott was concerned before, he had alarm klaxons going off in his head now.

Thankfully, though, she gave a surrendering sigh. “Alright, alright. Now I've got three of you ganging up on me.”

She tried to take a step forward, and a combination of the amount of blankets she was holding onto around her shoulders and just the sheer exhaustion the cold was coaxing out of her had her stumbling into Scott's arms. With a shiver of his own, he lifted her up off her feet, blankets and all, tucking her into his chest as he started heading out of the bridge. “How the hell have you been standing there?”

“Sheer force of will,” She shuddered.

“Sam, call Lexi to the drive core.”

" _Yes, Pathfinder._ "

Cora coughed. “Eighty people in the cargo hold suffering from the same problem and you're pulling our doctor away to take a look at your second in command?”

He dropped his voice to be only heard by Cora. “My second in command just happens to be the mother of my unborn child – no one else in that hold is pregnant.”

“It's a fetus at best.”

“ _Whatever_. Just . . . let me be concerned for your health and well-being.”

They hadn't told everyone yet – only Lexi, though she'd been alerted by SAM when Scott had to explain the process of reproduction (which, quite frankly, merely resulted in him directing the AI to medical journals he was positive someone had brought with them on the 600 year journey, a bit miffed that Alec Ryder hadn't taken it upon himself to explain that Sara and Scott hadn't just mysteriously appeared out of thin air). Cora and Scott hadn't exactly had the chance to tell her themselves.

The rest of the crew were in the dark until Cora thought it was best – wishes Scott understood and respected, but it was hard keeping this from his own sister, whom had also taken up residence on the Tempest. Even SAM was laying low after Cora gave him instructions to _tell no one else_. Work resumed as usual from that day forward, only prompting the occasional check in from Scott as to how she was feeling – the Pathfinder had suddenly become slightly more attentive to his second, but the others seemed to think it was no more then usual.

Here, even though he regretted making the decision to cut power to just about everything on Cora's currently shivering part, the needs of the many sprung to mind. And she wouldn't have forgiven him if he'd decided to take the chance and have Kallo fly them through whatever this thing was and risk not having the power to get them home purely because she was pregnant.

So yes. Even though they were coming up to some freezing temperatures, even though Cora was not at her best right now and could hardly muster the energy to stand, this next hour or two of no heating was worth being able to get back to the Nexus. It was also worth him fussing over her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an extra little bit that I didn't end up finishing - it's just an extra little bit with quips of dialogue and remains unfinished. http://galaxyostars.tumblr.com/post/159132182024/chapter-7-additional


	18. Poison

Scott could hardly remember the details. They'd been setting up drell colonists on Elaaden, deemed the most appropriate place for them at present time. They'd gone away from the main colony to check on what should have been an abandoned outpost, left behind by scavengers and raiders. It hadn't been abandoned – not judging by the newly placed dead bodies. Cause of death? Poison dart – some kind of chemical shot directly into the bloodstream.

But the place had been clear. They'd searched it from top to bottom – no sign of anyone inhabiting the place. No movement. Nothing. It wasn't until a sharp and painful stabbing sensation in the side of his neck did they realize that someone had set up new defenses. Namely things that shot poison darts.

Scott had been conscious for most of the ride back to the colony, though he'd been barely coherent for the last two minutes being closing his eyes and not reopening them. SAM had stated – to him and probably to Cora and Liam as well – that he was now in cardiac arrest. The AI had tried to get him back, succeeding a grand total of once and it lasted about five seconds as they ferried him through the doors of the med centre. He remembered seeing Cora, remembered vaguely hearing her say something, though he couldn't say what that was. When he lost it again, he'd stopped breathing.

There wasn't a lot to Cora's armor, but it had been stripped of it's heavier parts, leaving her only in it's skin. Sara had come by to try and settle her a little as doctors worked, bringing water and something to eat, sitting back and waiting with her. Because that's all this was now – a waiting game, to see how he'll be when he wakes up. SAM had been working closely with the doctors, giving a disturbing amount of details on Scott's vitals. On a regular day, if it was anyone other then Scott Ryder lying on that bed

“You look worse then he does,” Sara commented softly as she put a stop to the biotic's pacing.

She'd had one hand on her hip, another to her stomach. She was worrying so much, she was starting to feel ill. “I don't feel great,” Cora admitted.

“You're not helping him by freaking out like this. You need rest.”

“I know.” She sighed, accepting Sara's offer of a hug. “There's just a lot riding on him pulling through.”

“If Sam says he's recovering, then he's recovering.” Sara offered. “I don't think he'll transfer the pathfinder controls to you just yet.”

Cora didn't want them. Not anymore. She wanted her partner back on his feet in the next ten minutes, as if this had not happened. It was selfish and unrealistic of her – of course there were dangers to this job, but up to this point, the most danger he'd faced came from interfacing directly into remnant technology. He'd had his fair share of injuries, ranging from bruises, cuts, dislocated joints and broken bones, burns, bullet and stab wounds – but for the most deadly thus far to be _poison_? A poison _dart_ , no less, shot from an automated machine. How did that make any sense?

Andromeda was both a dream and a nightmare. And today, it was a nightmare.

Behind her, as if downright _sensing_ her worry and illness, Scott's breathing stuttered, his chest retracting as his lungs tried and failed to suck actual air, succeeding only few times in spite of his many attempts.

Cora was by his side in a flash. “Sam, what's happening?”

“ _One moment._ ”

 _'One moment'?_ How was _that a good thing_? Cora shot a look at Sara, seeing only the eldest Ryder's back as she went for a doctor. “Sam, I hate to take up your processing power, but I really need to know what's going on.”

There was no response, but Scott started breathing normally, taking full deep breaths, chest rising and falling evenly – before his body shuddered again. And this time the Pathfinder opened his eyes.

She could have killed SAM. She really could have. But she was too busy mumbling comfort to her other half as he gave a pained groan. “Cora?”

“Yeah.”

“Something's burning in my chest. And it's not a good feeling.” He huffed, holding his breath for a few seconds before regaining what little control he had.

“ _An anti-venom was required. You may be feeling after effects of this experience. I recommend steady breathing.”_

Scott huffed a small laugh, rubbing at his chest with the hand not currently enclosed in Cora's. “Give him a medical journal and all of a sudden he's a leading expert.”

“It's your own fault,” Cora laughed. More seriously, she ran her fingers through his hair. “Don't do that to me again.”

“Yeah,” He breathed. “Definitely not on my top five list of my favourite things.”

“I mean it. Just . . . never again.” She retook his hand, letting a silent moment pass between the two of them. “I love you.”

His thumb ran back and forth over her knuckles. “I love you, too."


	19. Grounded

“I don't know how you were raised, _lover boy,_ but we don't kiss and tell here in Andromeda.”

“What the _hell_ are you talking about!?”

“You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about!”

“ _Back off_ , Nyx.”

Scott should have expected problems when a member of his crew started dating the sister of a member of his crew. There was an unhealthy amount of firearms aboard the Tempest – one or two were occasionally left laying about, in the middle of being cleaned or put together. In Liam's case, he'd just finished modifying the barrel of his carnifex.

There were reasons why he both understood and absolutely deplored why he'd walked into the Tempest's cargo hold to find Liam pulling a gun and aiming at Vetra. The turian had clearly been advancing on him, intending to harm, but at the same time, she _wasn't_ armed. For a crisis specialist, he was doing a piss-poor job of managing his own crisis. Scott could hardly believe his eyes.

He may not have had the biotic skill of someone like Cora, per se, but he'd been practising enough that he could pull that pistol from Liam from his position on the second level. “ _That's enough!_ ”

Good. He'd gained the attention of both human and turian, Vetra having already taken a step back from Liam.

“Vetra, take a walk.”

“ _Ryder-_ ”

“ _Take. A. Walk.”_ He forced. “I'll talk to you when you've cooled down.”

Her eyes pierced his, before throwing a glance at the other man, snorting her unhappiness and stomping to the room she'd claimed off the cargo hold. Liam, though he shouldn't have, looked rather relieved.

“Thanks, Ryder.”

“Oh no. You don't get to thank me," Scott shook his head. "You've just made me your worst nightmare.”

The Pathfinder made his way down the ladder, striding over to where Liam was no less confident of himself. He wasn't prepared to have any back-talk, wasn't intending on listening to whatever excuse the other man had intended on making. “I don't care what you and Vetra were arguing about. But I shouldn't have to tell you that you _do not point a gun at another member of this team_. No matter _what_ has happened.”

“She was-”

“No, Liam. There's no excuse. I just watched you pull weapon and you fully intended on using it.” He shoved the pistol into Liam's hands. “I honestly would have preferred walking into a fist-fight. If I'd have come in thirty seconds later, there would have either been a bullet in the hull, or a bullet in Vetra. I can't stop bullets with biotics, Liam. I'm not Cora or Peebee – and I honestly doubt _their_ bullet-stopping capabilities. So the next time I see you, you and Vetra better have sorted whatever the hell that was out, because until then, you're grounded and forbidden weapons privileges.”

Liam gaped at him, blinking as if the Pathfinder had just slapped him across the face. “ _She would have attacked me!_ ”

“So you're saying that if it had of been Cora, or Drack, or God forbid, _me_ , you'd have done the same thing?” Scott snapped, moving away from Liam and starting towards Vetra's room. “Until such time Vetra's told me that you've sorted this out, you're done til we get back to the Nexus. I'll have Cora grab your gear.”

With Liam sufficiently handled for now, his next victim was the turian sister. Which, admittedly, would be slightly more difficult to handle. Scott had an inkling suspicion as to what this was about.

Scott hated this, acting like the asshole CO, putting his foot down. His team was a unit - with the title of "Pathfinder", he was considered the leader, but ultimately, there were very few times where he actually _lead_. He spoke for the team, pointed them in the direction, but ultimately, it was all in or none at all. He could count the amount of times he'd had to be the tie-breaker or forced the others into something on both hands. So stepping between two of his team, laying down the law they already knew . . . it was unpleasant. Though had it been Cora or Drack that caught the two of them in that position, likely they'd have been marginally less merciful, given their backgrounds.

He didn't start speaking until the doors had shut, awarding Vetra a little more privacy then he had Liam. “Start talking.”

“He broke up with Sid.”

Scott frowned, crossing his arms. “And this is relevant to you, how?”

The turian stood, a distinctive kind of fury in her eyes as she stood toe to toe with Scott Ryder. “He was spreading _lies_ about her. I am her sister – I _protect_ her. You'd have done the same thing if it was Sara!”

That was mildly debatable. Sara honestly would have just kicked Liam's ass. “No. Sara can handle herself – as can Sid, as she's proven to you time and time again. Liam's not a mercenary going after her, Vetra. He's a newly-ex-boyfriend.”

“He's being an _asshole_!”

“You've spent two years working with him – since when is Liam capable of spreading unpleasant rumors? He's a gossip at best. Sid or her sources may have misinterpreted what was said.”

“Are you calling my sister a liar?”

“Not everything she _hears_ is truth. Liam might not be the one with malicious intent here. And until you two have worked out this issue you've got with each other, you're both done until we get back to the Nexus. That should be enough time for you to both think about why attacking each other was a bad idea.”

Scott turned on his heel, stopping only when Vetra called out after him.

“We're stopping at Meridian, not the Nexus.”

He glanced over his shoulder, making it perfectly clear. “ _Grounded. Until. Nexus._ ”


	20. It's a common injury

“ _Pathfinder, I believe Lieutenant Harper is exhibiting signs of distress._ ”

Contrary to the popular belief of the Nexus leadership, Scott Ryder did actually _think_ before he acted. There were times where he just didn't _need_ to think, ala telling one not-so-fine kett leader exactly where to shove it, telling krogan exactly where to shove it, and occasionally shooting one or two consoles in anger management (that last one only happened during extreme circumstances).

One of the team was injured or, as SAM so put it, 'showing signs of distress'? It'd peak his interest, sure, but he wouldn't launch head-long into whatever situation they'd gotten themselves into without thinking over the consequences to all who would be involved. Did he have an itchy trigger-finger? Maybe. But Jaal wouldn't have the scar on his cheek if he hadn't learned how to control said itchy trigger-finger.

So Cora, showing 'signs of distress' whilst on the Tempest . . . not something he'd race into unless he wanted her to throw weights at him again. After the revelation to SAM, the AI had begun taking it upon himself to alert Scott whenever her vitals were 'above average', even when she was just going through her exercise routine. It was strange that an AI was mildly more concerned with her health then he, the father to the 'parasite' Cora was currently harboring. He had to go through a series of questions to determine whether checking up on her was worth the potential danger.

“Where is she?” He finally asked the AI, putting down the datapad as he contemplated his next move.

“ _Bathroom facilities_.”

Not a place SAM usually became concerned over Cora's health. Scott got up out of his chair, taking a quick stride out of the galley and across the corridor to the bathroom.

The door wouldn't move. “Sam?”

“ _This door is currently locked._ ”

Scott crossed his arms, giving a deep frown as he stared at nothing in particular (or, rather, SAM, assuming he could actually see Scott's expression).

“ _I will override the command._ ”

“Thank you.”

The door opened to reveal a mostly-naked Cora standing at the bathroom mirror fresh from a shower – shoulder . . . not so great. If Scott had complained about a shoulder dislocation back when they'd gone to find the quarian ark, Cora's injury put him to shame.

But damn. She wasn't even uttering a single complaint as he entered the bathroom.

“Did you enjoy your trip?” Scott smirked, noting the water next to the shower cubicle – she must have slipped or tripped over the two-centimetre high base-lining. Wouldn't be the first time.

She sighed. “Tell anyone, and I will break you.”

“Only person I'm telling is Lexi,” He said, stepping up to her side careful not to touch her left arm or shoulders. “SAM knows, though.”

“I figured.”

“So what's the plan here? Am I resetting it, or would you rather Lexi?”

Cora gave a small huff, blowing away wet hair from her eyes to little avail. She motioned to the shirt on the bench. “No offense,” She breathed as Scott carefully helped her into what turned out to be a loose tank top. “But I think I'd prefer Lexi. You do this too much.”

“No offense taken. C'mon – she's in the medbay going over angaran and asari mating studies.”

“Great. I'm gonna get a whole speech, aren't I?”

He chuckled, one of his hands on her hip and the other on the right arm, guiding her carefully over the wet patches in the bathroom and out the door. “Just blame me. It always comes back to me, anyway.”


	21. Mute

“You really think pairing Liam up with Vetra was a good idea?”

Scott set the sniper rifle up against the rock bank, calibrating it's targeting system, looking through the scope as he considered his answer. They were all decked out in their armor – Liam and Vetra had been tasked with entering a kijor command outpost and disabling the shield that was securely wrapped around an oil tank, the Pathfinder and his second responsible for demolishing said oil tank. He'd have to give them enough time between them shutting down the shield and their getting the hell out of there, lest they get caught up in the explosion, but it was a solid enough plan.

Until you factored in the com chatter he kept picking up from Vetra and Liam, the two still seeming to have problems with one another that extended way past 'upset Vetra's sister' now. The gun-pointing hadn't happened again, but even though there were no serious arguments, it was clear Liam was not going out of his way to behave overly acceptable and Vetra wasn't even trying to rein in any additional problems she'd had with the man. Part of him wondered why he hadn't just sent Peebee and Sara and saved himself the ongoing headache.

“Think of it like a team-building exercise,” He finally said, loading incendiary rounds into the rifle. “The more they work together, the more likely they'll finally start being able to deal with each other.”

“Pretty sure they should have worked out how to tolerate each other after two years working together, Ryder.” Cora said.

“They both have a lot on their mind. As soon as they work out they're in the same boat, things will be quieter, and I don't have to worry about either of them wrecking the ship.”

The biotic sighed, scanning the area for anymore kett or kijor soldiers or operatives. “Lexi thinks this should be my last outing.”

He glanced at her quickly, before returning to the scope. “And what do _you_ think?”

“I think you're acting weird about having me here.”

The Pathfinder scoffed. “I'm not acting 'weird'. How am I acting weird?”

“You saw me suiting up and asked if I was sure I was up for this.” She crossed her arms. “Given that we've seen a totally of five guys here, I think you were freaking out over nothing.”

Scott sighed. “It's not about you being pregnant, and you _know_ it. You busted your shoulder last week – of course I'm going to be concerned. Use an assault rifle for half an hour, and recoil is gonna be a bitch.”

The comment didn't really brighten her spirits. “Thank you for the concern. But I think I know how to handle a weapon after an injury. Hence,” She raised the shotgun.

“. . . that's really not making me feel any better.”

“Just line up your damn shot.”

He rolled his eyes. Cora had become . . . not _sensitive_ about the pregnancy – not really. Just overall she was annoyed about the slight difference of treatment, which was why she'd opted to not clue in the rest of the team until the decision about their active duty status would be made. This did not, however, exclude Lexi from the smaller, private details. The asari fussing over her every time she'd essentially stubbed a toe had not gone down particularly well. Neither had SAM's continued concern. There was solace in Scott's steady feigned ignorance of the situation, the Pathfinder instead focusing his attentions towards her when they'd gone to bed for the night, leaving most of his questions until then.

Honestly, though, they were questions she either didn't or couldn't answer anyway. Lexi had not given her exact details about everything that was happening. Though their equipment was sensitive enough to pick up every snippet of information possible at this time, they'd opted to not know until they needed to know, or had the time and energy to really know. True to Cora's work ethic, all efforts were focused on the quarian ark's rescue, and not her personal life.

Was not telling Sara killing him every time he stepped out the door of his quarters? Yes. Yes it was. There was a time and a place, and getting quarian, drell and hanar colonists back to safety was not the time, nor was a damaged Tempest the place.

After this, they had to head directly to Nexus and hope Gil could keep the ship together while they did it.

“Shot's lined up. How are they doing?”

“They're still talking on their com. I think they're decrypting a security console. You don't know what they're saying?” Cora questioned.

“I muted them half an hour ago.”


	22. The announcement

It was nice, being able to kick back and relax in one of the less-loud establishments on the Nexus. Over two years, and only now were there places for Operations personnel to finally have a meal without loud music pumping through their ears.

These gatherings used to take place on the Tempest. Now, however, Fraticelli's was a wine and dine . . . and gather. Dextro food also available for their turian crew member, of course. The crew of twelve had taken up a corner of the place, spread across couches with dishes of finger food and various other 'treats'.

Cuddled up close with Cora, Scott was finding himself surprisingly well at peace as he watched his crew interact. Gil and Kallo were no longer bickering _as much_ , currently trading tidbits about an upgrade to the aft thrusters of the Tempest using some kind of rem-tech, Lexi bravely attempting to moderate – Scott was so far behind in understanding what in Andromeda they were actually saying, but he assumed it was in that area and was honestly close to applauding Lexi for even trying to keep up given that he had absolutely no chance. Peebee, Sara and Suvi were deep in discussion about the kijor's rather unnatural enthrallment abilities. Meanwhile, taking up the ends of two corner couches, Liam, Drack, Vetra and Jaal were trading combat stories – at last, a conversation involving Vetra and Liam that didn't also include an argument.

Cora and Scott were simply tired. It was wrong to say they were being anti-social, but they'd opted to not actively participate in any of the exciting conversations. They had their feet up on a coffee table, Cora leaning her head on his shoulder as he traced the palms of her hands with his fingers. He was quietly asking nonsense questions, mainly to keep himself awake if anything else. Just anything from experience with singularities to her opinion of the Initiative's latest uniform design change.

“I think now would be a good time to tell them,” Cora mumbled, reaching a hand up to run through his hair.

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Shr shrugged. “It's as good as time as any. Look at them all – all happy and drinking. Perfect time to tell them you're temporarily reassigning them in a few weeks time.”

Scott scoffed a laugh, a knowing smile spreading as he pressed his lips to her hair.

“Ryder!” Drack exclaimed, startling Scott somewhat as he shifted his attention from Cora to the not-so-sober krogan. The human was kind of hoping he'd been addressing his sister, but alas, those eyes were focused squarely on him. “Neither of you have touched your drinks!”

The 'neither' also had nothing to do with his sister, but Sara's attention had also been torn away from her discussion, glancing between Scott and Drack, her tone playful. “You don't drink, you pay me back.”

He frowned at her, stretching the arm not currently trapped between Cora and the couch. “Sorry, sis. I'll pay you back tomorrow.”

“C'mon Ryder,” Liam complained from his place next to Jaal in the corner. “This is time for you to let loose! You're coming with us to Vortex after this, right?”

Scott laughed again. “I promise you, I am quite loose. So much so,” He glanced at Cora. “I'm so relaxed I'm not even going to worry about whatever backlash you all have for me.”

It was he'd somehow summoned all their eyes, most of them quietly trying to judge what exactly he was about to say. Gil, by the looks of things, had already worked most of it out, being the only one who'd relaxed further into his chair, a smug smile on his face. Cora shifted, allowing him to sit up properly and rest his elbows on his knees.

“As of next month,” The Pathfinder announced. “The human pathfinding team, including non-human members, will be shutting down-”

He hadn't been able to finish before the crew launched into their various reactions and stages of shock, the most amusing being Liam accidentally spilling his drink into Jaal's lap and their krogan team member dutifully demanding exactly what “that salarian” had done and promising to go marching into his office and slamming his face into a window. The doctor and engineer had sat back quietly laughing with each other, whilst their pilot was stammering about how the Tempest was performing above expected parameters of it's currently age.

The Pathfinder was tempted to let the fun continue, but Cora wasn't having any more of it. “ _Enough_.”

They all shut up, leaving only one giggling Gil Brodie and an upset, wet angaran as Scott continued. “ _Thank_ you. As I was saying, the team will be on long service leave for a year or so.”

“But _you're the Pathfinder!_ ” Liam stammered. “You practically wrote the _manual_! Why is Tann doing this?”

“It's not Tann – if anything, Tann's actually pretty annoyed that I'm pulling out for a while,” Scott sighed. “It's all me.”

The turian narrowed her eyes, speaking slowly. “Ryder, you seem way too relaxed about this. Are you high on something?”

“What?” He frowned. “No. I'm no _high_ , I haven't been _impaired_ , I'm not _drunk_. I am perfectly sober, and I have all my faculties.”

“Then _what the hell,_ Ryder!?” Peebee demanded with an onlooking and concerned Suvi. “You're just gonna call it quits? Toss it aside and let Harper take the reins!?”

“Oh, I'm not taking command,” Cora clarified, pouring herself a new glass of water. “I'm going with him.”

That only seemed to anger their crowd more, seven of them throwing out insults and challenges of some kind, mainly blaming the absent Nexus leadership. But it was Sara who pulled Scott's attention, his sister leaning forward and addressing him. “Scott, what is going on? It's been over two years – you can't just up and turn your back on dad now.”

He sighed. They were misunderstanding – and honestly, who knows what Alec Ryder would have said to this, what their _mother_ would have said to all this. It was unlikely she'd be woken from stasis before his child's birth – the idea that she'd wake up to find her kids with _kids_ was weird in itself. He was, quite frankly, terrified of going at this alone with neither of his own parents to give advice. Cora seemed steadfast as ever, confident and head-strong. She'd had time to accept her parents' disappearance.

But Ellen Ryder was _right there_ in the Hyperion's cryo-bay down on Meridian, and the way they were going with a cure, they might be able to wake her sooner then expected. Part of him wanted her there for support. As much as he loved Sara, appreciated her being there as his shoulder when he needed it, she'd had even less experience then Scott did with child-rearing, regardless of the “age gap” they so fondly like to remind themselves of.

“Cora and I are expecting.” He finally said.

His sister blinked, head bowing a little as she went over exactly what he'd said to her. She huffed, a smiled spreading at the edges of her mouth as her eyes met his once again. “Why didn't you just _lead with that_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the name of the setting goes to ela11's "Struggle" series (specifically in 'Fractured') - re-writing Mass Effect for that desired outcome and then going that extra bit further deserves more then just a name drop, though. Highly recommend reading it - it can be found here on the archive and FFN. 
> 
> Still looking for additional prompts and such to tide myself over - definitely not done here. I thank you all for your comments and kudos - they feed the author, and the author gives her sincere regards.


	23. Dizzy spell

Having well passed the two month mark of her pregnancy, the ranking officers of the Tempest had been preparing for their departure from service in less than a month. This wasn't met well by all – Peebee had effectively abandoned them, remaining in her little area and only leaving for provisions or bathroom breaks. Cora had ignored this action, and for a short time, so had Scott, assuming that she'd work her way back into the group when she realized the change wasn't quite as drastic as she was making it out to be.

When she _didn't_ return after a few days, he'd approached her and set it all straight. Sufficed to say, she was back to her old self in no time at all.

Cora didn't want to say that this irritated her, but it _irritated her_. She was already battling a killer headache – now she had to put up with a particularly bubbly asari.

“So what are you doing to name it?” Peebee said, having ambushed Cora on her way to the drive core. “Are you planning on sticking to an asari theme? Oh! Have you done an element zero check?”

She took a calming breath in, continuing on her now much longer journey to Gil. “Scott and I haven't discussed anything. And so far, Lexi hasn't been concerned.”

And when Peebee continued to babble, Cora clenched the hand that was not currently holding a datapad. “Should probably look into it just in case, though,” The asari had managed to say among other ramblings. “And you should consider a teacher – I know you guys use amps and whatnot-”

“Is this really a necessary conversation right now, Peebee?”

The two walked through the doors to the drive core, Gil sitting at his desk, gluing something together with the hot patch gun, barely looking up when Cora stood at his desk, transferring files over to his datapad.

“I really think this is something you and Ryder need to think about! What if the baby-”

“Then the baby's parents will deal with it,” Gil interrupted, coming to Cora's rescue. He glanced over his shoulder at the two. “Peebee, Ryder was looking for you.”

The asari narrowed her eyes as she looked between the humans, frowning a little before she finally skipped out of the engine room.

Cora sighed out of relief. “I owe you,” She said.

The engineer shrugged. “I get it. Peebee can be a little excitable."

“A little? I get ambushed at least twice a day since she came out of her hidey-hole.”

“She cares about you and Ryder. You can forgive her for being a bit antsy about your well-being.”

“I'm fine.”

“ _I_ know you're fine. But you're not asari - she probably thinks you might implode on accident or something,” Gil grinned. “Anyway, what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“Two things,” She placed the datapad on his desk. “I just forwarded you a schematic on a new shotgun mod. I'm hoping it'll bring down recoil, but I figured I needed my engineer to sign off on it before I started making changes.”

"I'll give it a look over." He picked up his datapad, scanning through her written request. “What's the second?”

She hadn't answered him, seemingly distracted and braced against his desk for a moment. The room seemed to move out from underneath her, complete with a rushing feeling from her head to her toes.

“Harper? You alright?”

Cora looked back up. “Sorry – yeah, yeah I'm fine.” The biotic straightened again, tapping his desk before launching back into business. “The request for a main gun has been denied by Nexus leadership.”

Gil groaned. “What _for_?”

“We're an exploratory unit, Gil. We can't go strapping guns to our hull and still convince alien races where here on a mission of peace.” She pointed out.

“It wasn't going to be _big_ \- ugh. Nevermind. I'll get to work shields and propulsion, then.”

“Thank you,” She smiled.

Cora didn't know what caused it – maybe it was coming down from her irritation of Peebee, or maybe she just turned around too quickly, but the colours of the drive core went from their stale grey, blue and black to pinks, greens and everything in between. She barely felt her legs crumble out from underneath her, her breath lost for a moment.

She'd managed to catch the edge of Gil's desk to steady her fall. And she came-to after a brief moment of blindness with Gil hovering over her.

“Harper, you still with me?”

The biotic looked back up at a very concerned Gil, taking his hand and hoisting herself back up to her feet. “Yeah, I'm-”

She stumbled again, this time Gil catching her under her arms and hauling her back upright. The engineer swung one of her arms around his neck before she could collapse on him again.

“Nope. You're not fine.” He reached over to the console, hitting the com button. “Ryder, Lexi, get to the drive core. Now.”

Cora heard some semblance of responses from the two as Gil slowly set her back down to the ground against a bulkhead. “Gil, I'm _okay_.”

“Yeah, three month pregnant woman faints for no obvious reason? Been there, done that – you need to be checked out.”

“Right – I forget that you've already done this before.”


	24. It's not supposed to make sense

Scott had been shot, beaten, burned, pinned against various walls and objects, almost flushed into space, poisoned, and chewed out by a whole heap of people, during his lifetime. Andromeda could be a shithole when it wanted to be, and under no circumstance had he ever gotten used to the treatment – nor should he. 

All this was usually inflicted by assholes with agendas or just plain morons. He'd inflicted harm on himself a very few amount of times – the remnant technology interface without SAM  being the main player. When his implant had started malfunctioning in the middle of the night, resulting in what he'd later find out from Lexi to be a seizure induced by a kijor's attempt on his life, the only indication being the implant's throwing of white flashes in his dreams, he in that moment hadn't been able to tell what was happening.

And then he opened his eyes to what he immediately knew to be a false reality. An illusion of what could have been.

Scott had opened his eyes to see Alec Ryder standing in front of him.

He could only tear his eyes away for a few moments, glancing around white nothingness, surprised there was even something for them to even pretend to stand on. Alec had been unmoving, the older man quiet with his arms crossed over his chest, in the clothes Scott had seen him upon awakening in Andromeda.

“ . . . dad?”

Alec's head raised somewhat at that, weighing what he'd heard. “Son,” He finally spoke, tone soft.

No. No way. All of this was ridiculous – unbelievable. Not  _real_ – and he knew it wasn't real. So why in all the worlds did he so want it to feel like reality. Scott inched closer, hand outstretched as if he was concerned he'd fall  _through_ what might have been his father. He didn't get a chance to retreat when Alec clasped his hand and pulled him in for a 603 years overdue hug. 

It didn't matter that it wasn't real. 

“Dad, I have so much to tell you,” Scott whispered into his father's shoulder. “So much has happened. We managed to get colonies up and running and- and the aliens on Habitat Seven, the kett, we defeated one of their leaders and now they just keep coming _back_ with these _others_ that are capable of insane shit, and Sara and Cora-”

“Enough, Scott.” He'd pulled away to see his father with a warm, gentle smile – the first he'd seen it in a long time. His hands were firmly on Scott's shoulders, as if sizing him up, seeing just how much he hadn't actually grown in the time since Alec's death. “I'm so proud of you.”

Just hearing the words brought a tear to his eye.

“I don't know what to do,” The boy stammered. “We've seen kijor take control of another pathfinder's _mind_ – if I'm next, Cora and Sara are in danger, my _people_ are in danger and I don't have the faintest idea how to stop them-”

“Scott,” Alec interrupted again.

“I just . . .” He let out a hard breath, turning away from Alec as he paced, rubbing his eyes. “If we don't deal with this now, I may end up raising my child in a fucking war zone. Cora deserves better.”

“Everyone deserves better,” His father said softly. “You keep acting like this is all on you – it's _not_. Don't let the title put you at the head of the spear, Scott. Yes, you have experience. So teach the others. Consult. Be their backup. But now is the time for you to be pulling back. You've done your job.”

Scott scrunched his eyes closed, opening them to stare down at his feet. “Why does pulling back and being with my family feel like I'm giving up and leaving everyone else out in the cold?”

Alec chuckled – an odd response, given that Scott felt his words to be rather severe. “Having kids is not the end of your career.”

“ _Pathfinder.”_

He could have sworn that he looked away for only a second, but that was all it took for Alec Ryder's figure to disappear. It felt like his heart had been torn in two all over again, experiencing that loss all over again. He felt cold, his entire body shivering as he tried to reason with himself, trying to calm himself down.

“You have to wake me up, Sam. I'm having a meltdown in here.”


	25. Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So . . . this "one-shot" turned out longer then expected.

Pathfinder Scott Ryder was already having a bad day before he'd ended up in this particular pickle.

He'd argued with Lexi about his health whilst suiting up with Jaal and Vetra – seizing in his sleep had not been an awesome experience, as Cora would agree, though the biotic commando opted to stay silent as she fixed up the outer shell of his armor, securing it all properly with practiced hands. They still didn't understand the kijor “Pathfinder! Kill kill!” attitude that seemed to be going, but they were clearly capable of fantasy, brain-melting shit from a distance. So when Tann had sent word about group of armed exiles holding hanar captive, the crew had been less then eager about Scott joining in.

It was one of the few times he'd had to put his foot down. And then promise that this would be “the last one”. Whatever that actually meant.

The exiles were down (negotiated with, or so Scott had thought), the hanar on their way to being released, but there were supposedly two. Scott had been following one of said exiles as Jaal and Vetra assisted their own overly-thankful hanar as Scott retrieved the second.

Except there was no hanar down this corridor. There wasn't even a corridor down this corridor. The next thing he knew, he was being pushed forward by the exile. It had been a sudden and long drop - the booster jets did not have enough time to compensate. And the hole of water was something his armor, and SAM, were not prepared for. And then the grating at the top slid across as the asshole who dropped him here walked away.

His armor's life support system kicked in to regulate the water's freezing temperature, but it wouldn't last for long. Said water was rising – already above his hips, and the distance between him and that grating was not far enough for his liking. “Sam!?”

“ _Attempting to restore communications._ ”

“What do you mean, _attempting to restore_!? You had a perfect com signal all the way down in a fucking _vault_ – are you seriously telling me you've got _nothing_ down here?”

“ _Stand by._ ”

Of course.

* * *

“They've set up dampening fields around five different locations, Lieutenant. Cutting through them all will take time.”

Suvi's words had hardly quelled the anxiety in her chest, with the attributing of SAM's sudden silence to just a disconnect by a damn _field_ of some kind. Cora glanced back at Drack and Sara. “Suit up. I've got a bad feeling that this is about to get complicated” The krogan grunted in acknowledgement, already ready to go as Sara sprinted off to go get her weaponry. Cora turned her attention back to Suvi. “How long will it take to cut through?”

“I'm almost-”

She was interrupted by a static-ridden Vetra Nyx. “ _Tempest, can you_ hear _me?”_

“Barely,” Cora answered. “They've switched on dampening equipment – cutting through the interference is gonna take some time. Where's Ryder?”

“ _We got separated. Jaal is escorting the hanar – I'm going back for Ryder._ ”

Because of course Scott separated himself from the rest of the team just before a time of crisis. Just . . . _of course_. “Try to disable as many of those damn fields as you can while you do it.”

* * *

“Sam, how long until the life support fails?”

“ _At this rate of energy consumption, I estimate approximately five minutes before failure.”_

Great. Not only was the water licking at his chest, but it was also about to get super icy, and his armor would weigh him down in the water. Not to mention that he could hardly hear himself thinking over water showering down the wall behind him, forcing him to speak up. “You _'_ re _guessing_?”

“ _The flowing water is not consistent-_ ”

“Nevermind, forget I asked.” Scott snapped. “How's contact with the Tempest coming?”

“ _There seems to be a dampening field eradicated around this tank. I am unable to cut through interference._ ”

He groaned. “What would they need a dampening field around a _water tank_ for?"

" _Unknown._ "

"Can we at least get through to Vetra and Jaal?”

“ _I believe_ _they are_ _also affected._ ”

“Keep trying.”

“ _There is also another matter, Pathfinder. To limit cold shock response, I recommend_ _we begin_ _reducing power to temperature regulation._ ”

Scott nodded his head, on the same line of thought. “Yeah, I get it - have a heart attack once, risk for another increased. Do it, Sam.”

As the temperature in his armor started to drop slowly, but still enough to be a noticeable difference, Scott begun shedding all the non-essential items. Worst case scenario, if he spent longer then fifteen minutes in freezing cold water, the equipment wouldn't do him any favours in trying to stay afloat.

Freezing cold water aside, his next concern was being forced under by that grating in the event he was pulled upwards by the rising flow. It had to go – else he was a contender for drowning. He pulled out his pistol, squinting through the specks of water being thrown at his face, and fired an incendiary round at the grating. The round simply ricocheted off. _Damn it._ “Sam, you got any suggestions about this grating?”

“ _You may be able to slide it back through the use of biotics._ ”

“I won't diss it til I try it. Load up the adept profile.”

He'd never gotten used to how his body shivered with each profile load-up, like his brain was switching gears and his nervous system was just a little slow to respond. The implant in the back of his neck warmed as he focused his energy.

But Scott was no super-biotic, he was reminded when, despite all his energy being put into it, the grating didn't budge. He'd almost fallen into the water because of the effort.

“Swap back to infiltration,” He huffed, unbuckling the chestpiece of his armor. “We're not getting through there unless someone opens it up top.”

* * *

“Connection to Sam has been restored!” Suvi exclaimed.

“Sam, what's happening?” Cora demanded.

“ _Stand by._ ”

She growled. “Damn it, Sam, don't pull that with me.”

“ _Cora?_ ”

That wasn't SAM's voice. She gave a breath of relief, going over the readings of the ship to try and pull Scott's coordinates, give Vetra a direction to head to. “Scott, you okay?”

“ _Uh, could be better. I'm in a freezing water tank and there's a serious threat of drowning coming up. You?_ ”

“Not nearly as bad. Where are you? Vetra and the others are looking for you.”

“ _I know I took a couple left turns, but I got nothing more than that. Someone needs to turn off the flowing water and buy me some time._ ”

Not good. He was talking about _buying_ time, being genuinely serious – everything he was saying he was meaning literally, which just slashed their timetable. And thinking professionally about this was getting marginally harder.

Lexi, having already been on stand-by, was stepping up next to her. “Sam, how long has he been in the water for?”

“ _Eight minutes,_ ” The AI replied. “ _Ryder's life support systems will fail in two. I've begun reducing temperature to minimize cold shock response._ ”

“What's his temperature?”

“ _Thirty five degrees Celsius.”_

“ _Great. So I get to choose between hypothermia and drowning._ ” The Pathfinder scoffed.

Both were equally unacceptable in Cora's eyes. “How long until you go underwater?”

“ _The water dumps change in consistency. I'd say I'd go hypothermic first, but knowing my luck, I've probably just jinxed it._ ”

“ _This is correct,_ ” SAM confirmed, ignoring Scott's jest. “ _At the water's_ _current_ _rate of elevation,_ _it is likely Ryder's core temperature will drop to thirty three degrees Celsius before drowning._ ”

“ _I really don't intend on being here for twenty minutes – please tell me somebody has a plan._ ”

She wanted to say that she did – she truly, desperately wanted to say that yes, she had a plan, they could find him within that time frame, get him the hell out of there, but in reality? She had few ideas. “Stand by,” She said, ignoring his huff of annoyance as she turned to Kallo in the pilot's seat. “Sam can't give us coordinates to his location. Can the Tempest's sensors cut through?”

“I've already been trying,” The salarian said. “I've never seen this kind of interference before.”

It wasn't exactly the answer she'd wanted to hear.

* * *

His entire body was tense, but if he had to pick a part that hurt most, it would have to be the ache in his chest. His rib-cage felt like it was closing in on itself, and the uncontrollable shivering underwater wasn't exactly helping - though part of him was glad that he was shivering at all. Scott's feet were no longer touching the bottom of the tank, and the suit had officially failed. He'd sacrificed his rifle, having let that drop down to the bottom of the tank first, before he'd shed the rest of his armor – he didn't even spare a thought about how they'd retrieve it later, if they'd retrieve it at all. It was probably time for an upgrade anyway.

The only thing he'd kept on his person was his pistol, though honestly, given that he was now treading water and it weighed more then his arm did right now, he was questioning the point.

“If I fire an incendiary round into the water, do you think it'll warm this place up a bit?”

SAM practically scolded him for the suggestion, though his response was uncharacteristically slow. “ _No, Pathfinder._ ”

“Figures.” He breathed, trying to keep his lungs going in an even fashion, but the splashing of water wasn't exactly helping his case. “Have they made any progress?”

There was an eerie silence, no voice on the private channel in his head. And it was frightening to think that SAM had fled. There was no comforting reassurance from the AI. The Pathfinder wasn't even sure if the AI was still active.

It was time to start thinking about the outcome for that 'worst case scenario'.

“Sam, if you can still hear me,” Scott huffed, dropping the pistol from his grasp. This was it. He'd resigned himself to this, as much as he didn't want to. “Disconnect from me. Transfer yourself back to SAM node. And . . . prep Cora Harper for pathfinder protocol.”

* * *

SAM had ceased contact with the Tempest a little less then ten minutes ago now, having stated that Scott's vitals were his main priority. They'd finally been given a live feed to said vitals, of which Lexi was studying and giving regular suggestions to the AI to upkeep. Drack and Vetra were scouring the place looking for him while Sara and Peebee went after the water flow controls. Neither team had had any luck.

Jaal had returned with the hanar, Liam assisting in making the being comfortable whilst the rest of them turned their attention squarely on their absent Pathfinder. Including the time his suit had been active, SAM had clocked Scott as being in the water for twenty five minutes. The last they'd heard from the AI, he'd warned about the water level – and then he went dark to focus on Scott.

So when he returned to the Tempest in all his full AI glory, she'd struggled to maintain her facade of calm.

“ _Scott_ _Ryder has been disconnected from SAM node._ ”

Jaal had had to hold her up, stop her from falling as her legs gave way. It was like her entire world had just caved in on itself. There was no air, no gravity - none of the fundamental things that kept her going.

He was giving up.

How _dare_ he give up. How was that _fair_?

“No. Over-ride. My authorization. You reconnect and you keep his heart going.” She spat, pushing herself away from Jaal, reopening the comlink to Scott – of which they'd closed at Lexi's recommendation. “Scott, what the hell are you doing?”

“ _It's_ _a_ _. . . precaution._ ”

“For _what_?”

Even over the com, she could hear how tired he was. “ _I don't want what happened to Avitus to happen to you. The turian Sam got corrupted during transfer – with our Sam safely disconnected, if anything happens, he'll be okay. It's for Sam's own good._ ”

He was at the brink of his own life, yet the bastard was still thinking about everyone else. She was going to slap him when he got back onboard. “Sam won't be able to restart your heart.”

“ _Cora,_ _we have to face it._ _Best case scenario, this water flow gets shut off,_ _or the grating opens. But I'll lose consciousness before anyone can get to me_ _. In ten minutes time, I will drown._ ” There was a pause. “ _Sam can't do much good if I'm not breathing oxygen._ ”

No. There _had_ to be a way – a contingency, a way to pull him out, to fix all this, to go back in time and tell him to stop being an idiot and _of course_ he shouldn't have gone on this mission. 

“ _Cora,_ ” Scott had managed to say softly. _“I love you._ ”

She glanced back down at his vitals, now no longer as extensive given his disconnection. While Sara, Peebee, Vetra and Drack were all in a green zone, without SAM to regulate everything he was doing, Scott was now rapidly declining. And he was right – he was right in saying that SAM couldn't do anything more. She closed her eyes, turning away from the console, holding back a sob.

“I love you, too.”

They were better then this, she promised herself.

“ _I found Ryder!_ ”

* * *

Scott finally came to two days later in the Tempest's medbay, body shivering uncontrollably for a moment as he pulled together his bearings. It was chilly in here, yes, but at least he wasn't freezing.

And then he got slapped in the face.

He'd hardly had time to even complain before familiar and warm lips met his, her hand snaking around the back of his head and through his hair.

Cora pulled back, eyes meeting his. “I thought I told you to never do that to me again.”

He smirked, kissing the inside of her wrist. “M'sorry, ma'am.”


	26. Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a controversial oneshot, given the decision behind Sarissa and the asari pathfinder, so some people may or may not agree with how this plays out.
> 
> Also - to my prompter. I cheated. I'm sorry. ( I thought I was being creative. XD)

The Tempest crew off-loaded Scott and Cora on the Nexus, for the ship to be taken back and temporarily 'stored' on Meridian – temporarily under Sara Ryder's command. He didn't know how long he'd spend on the Nexus, now settled in their new apartment on the station, but he imagined, given the regular intervals of consultation he'd already been required to give even before they settled, he thought it was a smart idea.

Now, still recovering from a mild cold (the surprisingly minor consequence to his mild hypothermia), Scott walked out of the bedroom wrapped in one of the blankets pulled from the bed, finding his partner seated at a table – feet kicked up onto another chair – and deep in a match of kotor tactics with one Sarissa Theris.

“Geth rocket trooper,” Cora laid a card down onto the board, placed behind her favoured 'asari commando'.

He'd had to blink. Usually Cora only played against Liam or Gil, opting to play the game over drinks as she absolutely slaughtered everybody. Scott hardly understood the game, but it was one of the few things that brought her joy when she'd found out Liam had smuggled not only a couch but kotor tactics as well. The latest version before they'd left the Milky Way, no less.

Sarissa's presence was . . . also unexpected. Two and a half years was a long time for Cora to think over and come to terms with Sarissa's ultimate tactic. She'd supported the idea of removing Sarissa from her new 'pathfinder' status – one Scott himself was against. He'd understood the decision to leave Ishara behind – he hadn't necessarily supported, but hindsight vision was 20-20. Without the information on the kett, the Leusinia might have been in even worse condition before his team had gotten to it.

Given what they'd faced so far, putting forth an inexperienced pathfinder to lead the asari ark had not felt like a viable option. Did the asari have the same faith in Sarissa as they would have Vederia? Probably not. But he was sure glad he'd made that decision when Hyperion hit Meridian's deck.

She may not have been best buds with Cora, but at least they seem to be on well enough terms that she was at least entertaining a friendly strategy game.

“Am I interrupting something?” Scott asked, shuffling through the living area over to the bench, pulling out a mug to start making himself some coffee.

Cora looked over her shoulder. “Just a tough game, that's all.”

“Cora's trying her damnedest to stay on top,” Sarissa added. “Sorry. Did we wake you?”

“Nah. Need to start prepping myself for early wake-up calls anyway.” He said, amused when Cora shot him a cautionary look over her shoulder before going back to her cards – not that it was actually early. The Nexus was simulating daylight outside. “How's it going, Sarissa?”

“Good,” She huffed, sifting through her cards. “I came by to ask if I could recruit one or two of your people for a recon mission, but I didn't know you were down for the count.”

The human pathfinder smirked. “You know I'm required by protocol to check my messages daily?”

“I wanted the excuse to come by personally and congratulate you both on the impending little one,” The asari clarified, before laying down a card. “Pull up a chair! I'm about to crush your baby's mother with a biotic barrier.”

Cora's shoulders sank with a heavy sigh, Scott setting his steaming mug down and pulling up a chair as she resigned herself to dealing him in with five character cards and attack specs.

“Go easy on me,” He took a sip of coffee. “I'm at a disadvantage.”

Sarissa chuckled. “Tela Vasir is stuck in barrier unless either of you have something that trumps.”

He flicked through his cards – two Blood Pack characters, a Shadow Broker agents, Archangel, and, low and behold, Commander Shepard.

“Scott,” Cora said. “I can't believe I'm begging, but please for the love of the goddess, save your child the embarrassment of being related to a once-champion defeated by the asari pathfinder.”

He smirked, leaning back in his chair and taking a deep breath before shuffling through his attack specs. “I think I got you covered.”

Scott placed his cards down. “Commander Shepard with a Mako literally and effectively blows Vasir to pieces.” He took a proud sip from his mug.

Cora's once mopey expression lightened as she sat up properly, crossing her legs as she gave a smug smile towards Sarissa. “Human pathfinder team wins again.”

Sarissa rose her hands in surrender. “I humbly submit my services for your consideration of mercy.”

With a laugh (resulting in a cough), Scott snuggled up further in his blanket, putting down his mug. “If you want to take some of my people with you, go right ahead – but you have to talk with them first.”

“Have you got any recommendations?”

“Recon mission?” He asked, Sarissa nodding in confirmation. “Jaal and Vetra have had the most experience with that kind of thing, but ultimately, all of them could be useful.”

“I will take that under advisement,” The asari pathfinder said, standing up from her chair and giving a slight bow. “I'll take my humble leave. Thanks, Pathfinder. Lieutenant.”

Cora and Scott said their goodbyes, watching Sarissa leave.


	27. A name

Life was rather mundane as an inactive pathfinder, though he was hardly going to complain to Tann about the lack of work. It was nice to stand at the bench, chopping up a block of chocolate (sacrilege) to melt (less so) next to his partner – whom was doing a might fine job of carving up those strawberries.

“What about Ellen?”

Scott huffed a quiet laugh. “Don't tell her if she ever gets out of stasis, but I honestly don't like that name.”

“What? Why?”

“It's too old fashioned,” He shrugged.

Cora rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because 'Sara' and 'Scott' aren't old fashioned.”

“Hey, two Ss are better then one.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

He continued the suggestions. “Liara?”

“I get the need to avoid old-fashioned human names, but I know at least three asari called 'Liara', all with different spelling, so . . .”

“Try for unique. Got it.”

“These are all done,” She said, referring to the strawberries as she went over to the sink to wash her hands and grab a wash cloth. “You melting or cleaning up?”

He gave a cheeky grin. “I'm kind of sad we're not just eating this outright, so I think I'll clean up.”

Cora threw the wash cloth at him, casually brushing past him to grab the bowl of cut up pieces to put into the re-heater.

“You know, Jaal suggested 'Sorane' for a girl.”

She rolled her eyes, glancing at him over her shoulder. It had been a quiet statement of 'absolutely not'. “The only people who _haven't_ suggested names I can count on one hand.”

“Really?”

“Liam, Lexi and Gil have firmly kept their noses out of the naming process,” She said proudly.

“Wow. Consider me surprised.”

“I think we should consider 'Nate'.”

He'd finished wiping up the bench, putting the cloth away before coming up to hug her from behind, watching her dip strawberries into chocolate and placing them back down onto the plate. He rested his chin on her shoulder. “'Nate Harper'. I like it.”

“You don't want to use your last name, or at least hyphenate?”

“No,” He stated plainly. “One of the reasons we left the Milky Way was because we were shunned by just about everyone because of dad's work on AI. Then becoming Pathfinder . . . being Alec Ryder's son overlooked whatever qualifications I'd actually had. People seemed to forget that I helped protect a mass relay and focused solely on how I should relive my dad's failures.”

“You're afraid that our kid will face the same thing?”

“I don't want people thinking our child should be the next Pathfinder because they have the Ryder name.”

“Scott . . .”

“Just . . .” He sighed. “Humor me. For now, at least. Besides, you're the only member of the Harper clan here in Andromeda. Meanwhile I still have a sister, who's getting pretty cozy with one Vetra Nyx if I do say so myself, and a mother in cryo.”

Cora rested her head against his for a few moments. “Alright,” She mumbled against his cheek, pulling away to finish up what she'd started.

With the sincere moment over, he picked up where they'd left off. “Hey, what about 'Aya' for a girl?”

Her nose scrunched a bit. “I'm not overly fond of naming our kids after planets . . .”

“I could have suggested 'Terra'.”

She groaned. “Add 'Aya' to the list.”

Scott chuckled. “If not 'Aya', how about 'Eden'?”

“You really love your planets with tragedies, don't you? Alright,” She sighed. “Add that one to the list, too. And I raise you 'Limissa'.”

“Asari?”

“Could have picked 'Entha'.” She pointed out.

“Add 'Limissa' to the list, then.” He leaned against the bench. “Why is picking names for girls harder then picking names for boys?”

“Because you're not conceding. 'Naeama'?”

“'Naomi'.”

Cora paused, stealing a chocolate dipped strawberry that hadn't yet set and popping it into her mouth. She nodded to herself. “I like Naomi'.”


	28. Interrupt

When Dunn said she'd make sure he was living as luxuriously as he could during his time off, he'd hardly gave it a second thought, chalking up her determination as a grateful attitude. And then he and Cora were assigned their joint apartment on the Nexus.

It had initially belonged to his father. Tann had initially decided that, with Alec Ryder deceased, it should have been reassigned to the Nexus leadership. Sufficed to say, that hadn't happened.

It was still weird looking around the place after having spent a little over a month now living there. It wasn't exactly spacious in that there was plenty of room to hold gatherings – given the amount of people still living on the Nexus, space was a luxury in itself. Instead, what it lacked in room to maneuver around, it made up for in rooms. Meaning _it's bathroom had an in-ground spa._

Scott had all but picked her up carried her into it when he'd opened the extra door in the bathroom – which had remained closed for almost the entire month, both having initially assumed that it lead to the next door apart (maybe it was an emergency exit – who knew?). He'd only found out it was there because curiosity got the better of him. It was honestly the stupidest thing to have only just found, and he knew it, but it hadn't made the discovery any less exciting.

Now they were stripping for a nice, relaxing, spa.

Cora was seated on the edge, Scott between her thighs, when his damn omnitool chimed. Not once, but three times – Liam, Tann (whom he'd hung up on the moment he saw the salarian's face and again when he tried calling a second time), and now his resident Remtech expert.

_Because of course that's what happens_ . Just . . .  _of course._

“Peebee, can it wait?” Scott pressed after having been forced to listen to her ramble two minutes longer then he should have, Cora giving a quiet command to SAM to raise the temperature in the room.

“Why, are you in the middle of something?”

Cora's thighs squeezed against his hips. “ . . . in a manner of speaking,” He managed to say.

“Oh. Okay. Uh, rain check then?”

“Absolutely.”

He gave a breath of relief when she'd finally hung up, his partner giving an amused smile,  hand running down his shoulder to the centre of his chest, and trailing further still. “Finally have you all to myself . . .” Her leg pulled him tightly against her, arms wrapping around his neck. A sly smile later, and they were once again lip-locked, each fighting for dominance.

Scott pulled back briefly, skin flushed and a certain something taking a peaked interest in their proceedings. “Keep going like this, and we'll end up having sex in the spa.”

“You can be in the spa,” She laughed. “I think I'll stay on the edge, thank you. For safety reasons, of course.”

“Mm, so you're not overly opposed. Good to know,” He said with a cheeky grin, leaning forward to press another kiss to her lips-

“Scott?”

He did not have enough time to react before his sister walked into the 'secret spa room' – his hands cupped around Cora's lower back, though given she was pressed fairly tightly against him, nothing from her front was visible to one Sara Ryder.

Not that Cora was overly private in her showings of her body, but . . . he'd admit to perhaps feeling a tad possessive and private over exactly how much explicit details Sara got of his sex life, thank you. Cora could be as open as she wanted, but whilst naked and tucked up against him, there wasn't a lot he was comfortable with Sara seeing.

His sister was hardly fazed. “Hey, have you heard from Jaal at any point over the last few days?”

Scott blinked, glowering at her. “Really, Sara? You didn't think to at least knock?”

There was a pause as she so obviously reassessed just exactly how Cora and Scott were positioned before rolling her eyes, hands on her hips.  “Oh please, I've walked in on you in worse positions.”

Cora groaned, planting her face into Scott's shoulder as he answered Sara's question to get her back on her merry way. “No, Sara, I haven't heard from Vetra or Jaal since they went out with Sarissa.”

“Mm-kay.” She turned on her heel, throwing more words over her shoulder as she left. “If they're not back in three days, we're sending a search party.”

He sighed as the door closed, Cora sucking on that spot just behind his jaw and moving up to his earlobe, pulling back for a few moments to give him a strange look. “Your sister has caught you in 'worse positions'?”

Scott hesitated. “Let's just say that things maybe got too casual with an old ex a couple centuries ago.”


	29. With good comes bad.

“Now that they're gone,” Sara slipped into the adjacent chair. “I think we need to talk.”

Sc ott gave her a strange look, taking another sip of his beer before setting it back down onto the coffee table. They'd just finished up a quiet dinner, catching up with Tempest operations – Tann had ordered it back out  to supply support cargo to and from the Nexus when the Verania got taken out of action. Ferrying supplies was not its intended use, but it kept his wayward crew busy (or, rather, those of them still on the Tempest). 

Sara was the temporary CO with Scott and Cora on leave. Gil was on Eos to spend more quality time with Dian; Vetra and Jaal were on some “uncharted planet” with Sarissa Theris getting an up close and personal look at kett operations; Suvi was on the Nexus working with scientists here on perhaps terraforming Ryder-1, though without the vaults, this may prove to be a long and strenuous task. 

Which left Kallo, Lexi, PeeBee, Drack,  Liam and, of course, Sara. 

He thought his sister had a thing with Vetra going, but apparently not, as evident by her snuggling up to Liam during dinner. It was honestly the most awkward experience he'd ever sat through, but Cora thought it was cute. 

It wasn't cute, he'd explained to her quietly whilst they were cleaning up, Sara and Liam still on the couch deep in their own conversation at the time. The potential fallout he was concerned he'd have to deal with when he got back on duty was freaking him out. When he'd voiced that concern to his second, she'd whacked his bicep and told him to stop treating the crew like children.

He was getting side-tracked. 

“About what?” He finally asked after those few moments of contemplation. 

“You and Cora.”

“What about me and Cora?”

“You're having _kids_ -”

“ _Kid_.” He corrected. “One. One kid, at present time.” Or, at least, he hoped. Honestly, he wondered how his parents dealt with having twins - given he and Sara used to be miniature nightmares, as much as he liked the idea of a family, he'd prefer to start one child at a time. For all he knew, however, fate might have a different plan.  


She rolled her eyes. “I just . . . want to make sure that you're both committed to this.”

Scott frowned.“Have I given you reason to be concerned?”

“No,” She admitted. “But . . . I don't know. I feel like Dad missed out on a lot when we were kids because he was busy with his work in the Alliance, and he never really reconnected with us.”

She was reminding him of that vivid dream he'd head of Alec, of the first human Pathfinder saying that he was proud of his son, actually hugging him and rrying to put his mind at ease when Scott was freaking out about  _everything_ . 

But that was the thing. He recognized that Alec had his faults, especially as a father, but never did Alec  _not care_ , never was he not committed. Sure, there were times where his work came first, and he was honestly the worst at displaying any kind of human emotion – so much so that Scott compared him to turians – but his father was there, in the background. If they needed him, he was there. Sort of. Depended on what exactly he was working on, really, but the overall  _point_ was that he would  _eventually_ be there.

“You're worried I'll get carried away with being a Pathfinder.”

He was  already been concerned about this, about turning into his father, about how his father's work impacted much of his career in the Milky Way. As soon as it came out that Alec was working on an AI project, Scott had essentially been shunned from duty. His locker was searched, his communications investigated, and he himself was essentially interrogated. When they cleared Scott of wrong-doing, he'd thrown up his arms and walked away. 

He'd wanted to blame his father, blame the fact that had he not worked on SAM, Scott would be snug in bed at the Arcturus relay, but he just couldn't bring himself to do that. Alec didn't tell Scott's CO to search every inch of Scott's belongings, hadn't  _made_ them investigate his son. That was all on the Alliance. It honestly hurt more that nobody, not his CO nor his friends, tried stopping him from walking out the door.

“I don't want you to lose sight of what you have, Scott.” Sara clarified, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You have a gorgeous woman on your arm and a baby on the way. When you go back out there, I don't want you being Pathfinder to get in the way of this family you have.”

Scott's eyes flickered up to meet those  shared blue orbs of his twin. “I get the picture. And this is something I've already discussed with Cora. There's a reason  _both_ of us are on leave.”

“I figured.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he considered his words. “I don't want this sort of life for my child. I mean, all the positive things – seeing, meeting new cultures, trying new things, exploring what is essentially an uncharted galaxy? Absolutely. But the combat side? There was only one reason I was in the Alliance, and it was to prove to dad that I could live up to his legacy. That's not to say I didn't enjoy it – I loved almost every second of it. Dreaming what was on the other side of that relay, conversing with all sorts of species and cultures before they left . . .  but  that was all the good part,  and you and I both know that with good things comes the bad . My child will never vie for my attention, and I plan on striving to the point where I don't have to put up with the crap I gave dad – on a regular basis, at least .  And Cora will not be stuck in the middle like mom was.”

His sister seemed taken aback, surprised about the amount of thought he'd already put into this. “You're going to be a great father.”

“Of course,” Scott gave a grin. “I've got a super biotic and a twin sister that'll kick my ass otherwise.”


	30. The bathroom

The pregnancy started becoming somewhat more real when Cora had begun waking him in the middle of the night for quick sprints to the bathroom. It wasn't intentional – she'd tried to avoid disturbing him, but he'd asked SAM to stop regulating his sleep. Now he no longer had the luxury of sleeping like the dead.

It was draining her energy quite a bit, the biotic opting to stay in bed longer in the morning then be her usually bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 6AM as she'd normally be. She wasn't reacting quite as well to Andromeda's food sources as much as Harry would have liked either – so her diet had been changed from mainly Andromeda food with Milky Way pleasantries to mainly Milky Way food with Andromeda pleasantries, not because it was affecting the pregnancy, but because it'd be easier to keep down. They were only a week into the change, but she'd improved quite a bit. But though the nightly dashes to the bathroom had lessened somewhat, they still occurred on a regular basis.

With a quiet sigh, Scott glanced up to the clock and heaved himself up out of bed. He was starting to regret the decision to stay up late that night and finish up some rather over-due reports, but this was not about him.

He walked to the bathroom door, pulling on a shirt as he did. The door was open, but he gave a courtesy tap on the frame before he entered, moving to rub a light hand over her back as she started hurling again. Because of these frequent visits, a glass had been moved to sit next to the sink in arms reach, filled with water before they went to bed.

When she'd started dry heaving, he pulled it down from the bench, other hand gently running through her hair, quietly offering it to her when she pulled back from the toilet. She took two moments to breathe before taking it, washing her mouth out first and flushing before finally taking a proper drink.

“Okay?” He asked quietly.

Cora sighed, a hand rubbing at her forehead as she just . . . breathed. “Yeah. Still feel queasy though, so . . .”

“Hang here,” Scott nodded. “Yeah. Sam?”

“ _Yes, pathfinder?_ ”

“Can you turn up the slab heating?”

“ _Of course, pathfinder._ ”

Cora leaned up against him, head resting on his shoulder. He sighed, kissing the side of her head as he pulled her close. One of his hands had wandered to her abdomen. “Maybe it's meilura.”

She frowned, looking over her shoulder at him. “What?”

“We tend to use a lot of meilura when we cook.” He shrugged.

He was of course referring to the Andromeda equivalent of rice, but she glowered at him anyway. “You realize this is about a chemical imbalance, right?”

“And that Harry thought the dietary change would make you more comfortable, I know." Scott nodded. "I'm just throwing suggestions out there.”

“Hmph.” She closed her eyes. 

“Could also be because of the baby's gender.”

She turned her head but didn't bother opening her eyes, a small frown creasing her eyebrows. “You're kidding, right?”

“Lexi says it's an old wives tale or something.”

“ . . . all asari children are mono-gendered.”

“Pretty sure she was referring to her patients.”

She couldn't stop a laugh, sighing as she rested against his chest. “I don't know, I think it's a boy.”

“A boy?”

Cora nodded. “ I'd be happy either way, but . . . yeah. Male.”

There was a pause as Scott considered her words. “. . . we could ask Sam to confirm . . . ?”


	31. Backup plan

One of the things Scott had regret in his life was not taking advantage of his biotic heritage sooner. He and his sister exposed to eezo whilst in the womb? Check. Father an N7 and crazy good at manipulating biotics to do his bidding? Check. Mother having completed extensive research into biotics? Check.

Desire to go through legitimate training? Yeah, no.

Sara took early lessons from Alec and Ellen, as one would have expected from both the Ryder twins, and while Scott knew how to control what little outbursts of biotic energy he personally could muster (which, admittedly, wasn't a lot compared to the likes of his sister and father), he refrained from using it in his every day life or for combat advantage. Which was kind of dumb, all things considering, given that he spent much of his time in the Milky Way galaxy guarding a freaking mass relay. He'd coped a lot of slack from his team mates during that time about how his being a biotic might have been helpful during sticky situations, but ultimately he'd never needed them. He was a recon specialist – he stayed in the background, was a fantastic shot with a sniper rifle, assessing a danger before running headlong into it (most of the time, at least). Sure, he'd needed some training with an assault rifle, copped slack from Liam for sticking to the "simple" M8 Avenger and never once touched a shotgun during his entire time in the new galaxy, and he'd never claim to being a crack shot with a pistol, but he knew how to handle one accurately at the least.

But the scare in the water tank had changed Scott's perspective. He'd relied heavily on his biotic crew members to get them out of problems, giving no thought to just how useful he himself might be. Given that, out of them all, Cora was the most skilled in using biotics in offense and self-defense, he figured that now was a good time to use his spouse's wealth of knowledge on this particular subject, and she'd begun to coach him in fine-tuning his control and training up some strength in certain areas.

“You got it?” She asked tentatively, having taken a position on the deck above, watching over him as he maintained the crate full of ammunition a metre or so above his head. One of her 'fine-tuning' exercises, as unpleasant as it was. They'd taken up the space in the Tempest's hold, now on their way to Eos for a vacation away from their vacation (which had mainly been an administrative nightmare given that Tann had been keen on keeping them both around for 'expert advice', of which much of the council of nay-sayers tended to ignore).

A sharp breath pierced from his nose, his arms and knees shaking. This would be his third minute under the pump. “Yep. Doing great.”

Scott was not doing great.

And he'd never admit it, but it was a heavy blow to his ego. Though he knew he shouldn't be comparing himself to the likes of Cora, Peebee, or even Lexi, but knowing his partner could lift this with one arm and hold it for a good fifteen minutes without complaint was not exactly doing wonders for his self-esteem.

“Don't push yourself too hard. Let me know the second have to tap out.”

His arms were starting to feel like boiling water, the implant in his neck was burning hot under his skin, his head ached, and his entire core was vibrating – and not in the fun, Cora-during-sex way, but in the 'I really don't think this is healthy for my organs' way.

“Sam, switch to the adept profile,” Scott managed to huff out, relieved when some of the heat had been taken off his head, replaced instead by another spike of heat at the base of his skull. When Ellen had designed his implant, he'd made her aware of his intention to not actually use whatever biotics he was capable of. Cora had insisted on practicing with just the biotic amp, SAM instead merely monitoring how he was doing and relaying back to Cora's datapad. But the usually dormant amp was not built for this kind of punishment and was doing its best to make him aware of it - when the _other_ side of his skin started to burn, he knew it was time for SAM to take on some of the weight. The crate was starting to feel about twelve times heavier then it had been before, and that was _with_ SAM at his back.

“Cora?”

“Yeah?”

He shook his head. “I don't got it.”

The second he'd said it, he'd almost dropped the crate onto himself, his one saving grace being the biotic commando acting as his trainer, talking him through easing it down gently whilst also having taken up some of the weight with her own biotics. At the back of his head, he couldn't help but be baffled that she was lifting something from _below_ her, and it was at least three times her weight. 

She was a powerhouse. And she didn't need to demonstrate any more then what she just had to prove it to him.Hell, she didn't even need to prove it to him.  


The crate was placed safely on the ground next to him when he collapsed to the deck, regaining his breath and letting the cold deck plating cool his forehead. He was vaguely aware of Cora making her way down to him.

He was exhausted, simply letting his body rest for a few moments before Cora helped him back up to a seated position, handing him a bottle of water. He didn't realize just how sweaty he was, either.

“Four minutes,” She noted quietly, taking a swig of her own bottle. "For a beginner, its above average. Next time, we'll try pulling."

“I can pull people,” He argued half-haphazardly.

“People tend to not be tied to structures. Pulling or knocking out balcony supports is a surprisingly helpful skill.”

A skill he probably could have used back in the tank of doom. He gave her a quizzical look. “I've never seen you take out a balcony.”

“I knock out instead of pull, but you'd be surprised how many times I had to do it back in asari space. Here you can just shoot the joints, but as soon as they start building permanent fixtures? You're gonna need some serious charge or pulling strength.”

Scott nodded weakly, tucking his head down for a steady breath. “Excuse me if I throw up on you.”

She gave a chuckle, hand rubbing his back. “After this, food.”

His stomach was more adverse to the idea then the rest of him, but coach knows best. Maybe she was legitimately anticipating him throwing up.

“Jeez, Ryder. She's worn you out already?”

The Pathfinder glanced up to find Peebee – not in her usual getup, but as though she'd just crawled out of bed. One of the luxuries of asari biology affording her was the lack of bed hair. Or static hair, as Scott was beginning to notice the more often he cracked out his biotics (Cora keeping her hair short suddenly made more sense).

Cora answered for him. “Didn't need comment from the peanut gallery, Peebee.”

“What?”

“Nevermind,” Cora sighed. “What are you doing here? Routine is breakfast in the galley.”

“I figured I'd come witness Ryder's training. That, and, well, the guys are arguing over who gets to be godparents to baby Harper.”

Scott sighed, glancing up to see Cora rubbing her eyes. “I don't even think _we've_ discussed that.”

“Can't we just say that Sara gets custody if something happens to us?” She said.  


He paused for a second, ignoring Peebee's quiet grumble about Cora and favouritism. “Really? Sara?  _Why?”_

“Why not? She's your sister.”

“Well . . . yeah, but . . . she's part of the ground team. Chances are, if something happens to us, it's probably happened to her.”

“You have someone else in mind?” She asked.

There was a small moment of pause, Peebee on the balcony waiting gleefully for what would likely cause drama among her fellows. But Scott spoke his words slowly. “ . . . Harry and Lexi?”


	32. Drink. Water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Looking for some additional prompts - if you've got something you want to see, throw them in the comments below.
> 
> In the meantime, I'm back to celebrate my illness with a one-shot.

“Deep breath in.”

Turns out being an everyday colonist was hard. Not because of the scorching temperature at best on Eos, the certain lack of water resources (they'd been required to implement water restrictions until they could produce the stuff themselves instead of having to pray that it rains and stealing from whatever puddle they could find within reason, so “haha _no shower longer then three minutes_ ”), the endless dirt. Did he mention the heat?

When they'd first landed, he vaguely remembered someone (it might have even been him, or Liam) saying “new galaxy, new ways to die”. Somebody conveniently forgot to mention that random strains of viruses could be included in the “death by new galaxy” category.

Scott Ryder . . . was sick.  _And it sucks_ , he thought vaguely as he turned away from Lexi to cough into his elbow. It was wet, phlegm at the back of his throat thoroughly disgusting, and it had persisted for a little over a week now. At first, he'd been convinced it was an upper respiratory tract infection - sure, he was no real doctor, could hardly claim excellence in the field of  _field medicine_ , but humidity plus 300+ year old popsicle  equaled not-quite-immune-to-everything. At least, that was until the asari checked up on him.

“It's a virus,” Lexi had stated every so calmly. “I'll have Doctor Ramirez drop by with something for the undesirables, but ultimately, you'll just have to ride this one out. Should have gotten your flu shot.”

_Four days later . . ._

“It's _a virus,_ Ryder.”

“And it's doing a pretty convincing job of trying to kill me any time I take a breath in,” Scott pointed out rather harshly. His voice was shot, his nose was stuffy, lips chapped, head killing him, you could hear him wheeze if he took a deep enough breath, he'd kept waking up at three hour intervals in the night to cough _chunks_ much to Cora's dismay – yes, he'd been sick before, but those times his body was like clockwork. Four days was all it had usually taken, back in the Milky Way galaxy. Four days sick, fifth day back on the clock and working without too much of a hitch. 

Lexi was doing her best to keep her cool. “I can't very well cut out a virus.”

“Honestly, I'd rather you cut out and replace my sinuses. That'd probably do the job.”

“What do you _expect_ me to do?” She asked seriously. 

“Give me something to take to make all this go away.”

“Ramirez has already done that-”

“Ramirez isn't _my_ doctor, Lexi, _you_ are. Please, I'm begging you, as the godmother of my unborn child, I will order you to give me antibiotics if I have to - I swear to the Maker, I will do it.”

The look the asari gave him in return was cold. “I hate to remind you, Pathfinder, but you're on leave, and not my commanding officer.”

Probably a good thing she hadn't taken it as a serious threat. “Lexi-”

She was already moving  to her desk across the room, putting together what ended up being a  needle that went directly into his arm –  and she wasn't hiding the lack of bedside manner, Scott having well irritated her . “Tempest isn't leaving for another two days,” Lexi finally said, forcefully pressing a cotton bud onto the new hole in his arm regardless of his protests. “If you haven't improved, I'll request that we take you back to the Nexus so Harry can deal with you. Go to Ramirez, and get some damn paracetamol.”

* * *

 

“How's Scott?”

The question didn't catch Cora off-guard,  having expected  this to come up on their leisurely walk after his visit to the Tempest earlier yesterday. 

Lexi had fully intended on checking up on him and making good on her word to drag him back to the Nexus if he hadn't improved, but she'd had her suspicions. 

“He's busy reading up on reports he missed out on over the last couple of days, but in higher spirits. He can't stop ringing out praises for you either,” Cora grinned. “What'd you give him? It's not a miracle cure, but he slept better last night.”

“Saline. Tell him he needs to drink more water.”


	33. Dizzy

Prodromos was thriving to the point where they were taking in new colonists – from a population of 40, Bradley decided to expand that number up to 75, and then again to 100 just a few months later as the vault did it's job and their struggle with the climate and resources continued to loosen up .

He wouldn't admit it to the crew, but he felt more accomplished putting up these new buildings for the incoming colonists then he did resetting the vault.  And though they were a fair few digits away from it becoming a problem, they were  considering reopening one of the older colonies, the basin  set to  become increasingly cramped – and given the option, the majority of those currently residing in Prodromos preferred the open spaces after being cooped up on the Nexus. 

H is small construction team had just put in the final bolt of this one particular building, part of a block of residential  housing. Scott took a step back, looking over the bulkhead. “Alright, I think we're done for today.”

There was somewhat of a sigh of relief from some of the team, but others were double checking electrical and water connections, stem bolts, and all in between. He helped pack up, gathering up his belongings  and just about to head back to his own residential housing block when Bradley clapped him on the shoulder.

“Pathfinder,” He chuckled, leaning against the bulkhead. “You're doing a hell of a lot of work, you know that?”

“Another day at the Prodromos office,” Scott grinned, shrugging on his jacket. And then he paused for a second, cocking his head. “Didn't I talk to you half an hour ago? What are you doing back here?”

Bradley hesitated for a bit. “Before I tell you, I want you to stay calm.”

Scott frowned, a spike of panic echoing through his chest as he sized up Bradley. Whenever someone told him to 'stay calm', something bad had happened – and today so far, there had been zero incidents that he was aware of. “August, what the hell-”

“Cora sent me here to tell you that she's in the Med bay-"

He didn't hear the rest of what Bradley said, racing off towards the door, blood rushing through his ears.  Cora, eight months pregnant, was now  in the Prodromos medical centre,  and August Bradley was telling him he needed to stay _calm_?

And where the hell was SAM during all this? Whenever anything happened, the AI alerted him in that exact minute – now his silence for most of the day made sense.

He didn't manage to get down the steps before Bradley pulled him to a halt. “Scott, freaking out and barging in there isn't going to do anyone any good.”

“The mother of my unborn child is in a med centre,” The Pathfinder spelled out. “Exactly how am I supposed to react?”

“She'll be back at your place in less then half an hour – so you're going to react by taking a deep breath and thinking about this logically.”

“What happened?” Scott demanded.

“She fainted,” Bradley said. “But she's fine now-”

Scott forced his hand off his arm to finish his storm down the steps, running a hand through his hair before turning back to Bradley. “Why the hell didn't anyone come get me?”

* * *

 

Bradley was right – after Scott was ordered to high-tail it back home to get some rest, Cora walked through the door soon after, greeted only by her partner's eyes from his seat at the table. 

She sighed. “It was low blood sugar.”

That made sense. As  what he liked to call a 'super biotic' , she generally had to up her intake of essentially everything. Add her pregnancy on top of that, and balancing everything had been a mild struggle, but managable.

His head dropped to rest on his arms, giving a small breath of relief. Cora's fingers trailed against his shoulders, rubbing his upper arms. 

“You've been putting yourself under the gun lately,” She murmured, kissing the top of his head. “If it was serious, you know I would have called.”

'Under the gun' was not in reference to the Prodromos additions, but the stress he was putting himself under to be the attentive father, partner, that he felt he needed to be. Alec Ryder was . . . not the greatest example of fatherhood he'd had, and with Gil and Drack (whom had surprisingly built a support network for him)  off on the Tempest, he felt like he was battling this alone. Weighing the inevitable responsibilities he had as the human pathfinder with the ones of being a father . . . suddenly taking all this time off didn't feel like such a good idea. It felt like they'd been setting themselves up to fail. Adding Cora's health to his list of ongoing stress, and he was starting to buckle under the weight.

And Cora had noticed. And Cora had similar concerns of her own – she was still his SIC, regardless of their relationship. Neither of them ever had what some might have called 'traditional' views of parenting – hell, Cora was chomping at the bit to get back to her regular duties, while Scott was more or less dreading returning to the Tempest – but having both parents out on the same mission seemed illogical in the face of potential danger. If one went down in that situation, likely both of them would. It would have been preferable if one was reassigned.

“I know,” Scott said. Not that it made him feel better. He sat up properly, now leaning into the back of his chair. “And you're right. But next time, if there is a next time, I would prefer I be there, instead of being left in the dark. And please don't tamper with the AI again?”

She had restricted SAM's subroutines the second she'd started feeling dizzy – that is, according to the AI.  He'd had to fix whatever she did to shackle him, proving once again that she was by no means a pretty face. 

“Understood,” She ran her fingers through his hair. “C'mon. Come to bed.”

He hummed, staying a moment in his chair as Cora retreated to the bed. The block they'd been assigned was essentially a studio space until such time the other buildings were up and running. It had been home for the last six months, doing the job they required. Neither of them really had any problems with cramped spaces, Alliance training having drilled that into them, and despite the Tempest being somewhat of a luxury, neither had really gotten used to it.

Having already dressed for bed, he  stripped off his shirt,  tucking himself up behind her and pulling her close, one hand on her belly. 

They had less then a month.

Honestly that was probably the reason why he'd panicked so quickly. And he'd honestly prefer Harry to be around – as much as Ramirez was a great doctor, Harry and Lexi were family now. 

God, he really needed to talk to Gil, get some of these feelings off his chest and ask for support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys - I need some names.


	34. Emergency (Part 1)

He was mid-target practice with his pistol when Cora patched him into quite the frantic call from one Liam Kosta.

Sarissa, Jaal and Vetra hadn't reported in. Actually, scratch that. They _had_ reported in, but the communication was garbled, had what sounded like screaming in the background, and no word as to where exactly they were.  Sara with her skeleton crew had taken the Tempest in, and hadn't come out in two days – so now Sara, Kallo, Gil, Lexi, Drack and Peebee were gone too.

The salarian pathfinder was indisposed, APEX were out of people. Avitus was on his way, but despite the ample amount of time he'd had from Meridian's colonization to now,  he  was not up to speed with the areas and dangers of the Heleus Cluster.  Not to mention, the turian was an ex-Spectre – “team work” had only recently become a word in his vocabulary,  having been force-fed a team and a ship by Tann .

In the first five minutes of talking to Liam, Scott could feel himself reconsidering every action Sari s sa and Sara had taken up to this point,  halting only when he kicked himself into action. He needed his kit and weapons from the Prodromos armory. 

Cora walked in as he was clipping on his chest plate. “What's the situation?”

“Tempest is missing,” Scott said. “Sara went after Sarissa's recon team, and there's been no contact since.”

“Liam got a location?”

“Yup – Avitus is coming to grab me, then the Menae is headed in a straight line to Liam and following the Tempest's last heading.” He glanced around, looking for the last of his equipment. “Where's my-?”

Cora pointed at the sniper scope behind his head, label ed with his name. He spun round to grab it, snapping it onto his rifle. “How long do you think you'll be gone for?” She asked, handing him an extra clip.

“I'm hoping less then three days. Any longer then that, send search parties.” Scott sighed, pausing for a few moments. “I really don't want to have to leave.”

“It's the family.”

“Yeah, it's the family royally screwing it up right at the time I had zero intention on leaving this colony,” He pointed out, blue eyes settling on her, palms now resting on her belly between them. “I don't want to leave. Not now. This is just . . .”

D ue date in less then a week, and Scott was being called away.

Cora took a  deep breath, taking  his gloved hands in hers. “I wish I could go with you.”

“The timing is . . .” He huffed. “Terrible. And I'm gonna kick my sister's ass for that. But I promise you, I will come back.”

“Of course you will,” She nodded, inexplicably wincing. “Bring our family home. We'll be here.”

* * *

It took them an entire day of searching, Liam having spent most of his time waiting for Ryder and Avitus Rix pinpointing where the Tempest had last used SAM's ping.  The good news was, Kallo and Gil had been smart (as always), having dropped com beacons. Aside from the regular space drift, they had led them right to one badly beaten Tempest.

It broke his heart to see her barely holding together. One of her forward thrusters had almost been torn off completely, scorch marks littered the hull, and part of her nose had cracked, allowing them view of what could have been a deadly plasma fire. SAM gave a full report once they were closer, reconnecting with the full systems properly – the bridge was uninhabitable, locked down from the rest of the ship.

The good news? Three lifesigns. Though currently they were unidentifiable, if he had to guess, he'd assume the support staff – Gil, Lexi and Kallo. It would make sense that the engineer and pilot would try to keep the Tempest together. The ship might look like hell, but SAM reported that she was operating well under the strenuous conditions.

Scott sent Liam directly to the Tempest, to try and help get her ready to fly out the nebula. The two pathfinders would locate the team down on that dead fuel station.

He regretted the choice almost immediately.

The thing about abandoned stations was that they always provided an inhuman kind of atmosphere, as if something was waiting in the shadows ready to strike. Avitus's ship docked with orders to defend the Tempest when necessary. 

At that point, they just followed the sound of screaming. 

This was not how Scott imagined he'd get back into the field. He was certain that those noises were coming from Vetra Nyx – and where Vetra was, Sara wouldn't be far away. 

It was a theory proven wrong.

“Vetra?” Scott called out into the blackness, shining the torch clipped onto his pistol around at the openings in the corridor, the turian pathfinder not far behind him. When the screaming ceased, he called out again. “Vetra, Jaal – is anyone here?”

There were no responses, just sparking coming from a panel they passed only a few moments ago. Avitus shook his head. “I've got a bad feeling . . .”

“So do I. Stay sharp, check your targets. There's more than a handful of my people down here.”

Almost his entire crew were down here. This really,  _really_ wasn't how he envisioned himself getting back into the field. 

They rounded a corner once more, this time into an open area with some far better lighting, a balcony up top. It'd be harder to keep an eye on their own backs here, but so far, the abandoned station proved to be more of a horror story that had swallowed the crew then it had been filled with kett or k ijor.

“Stop where you are.”

The order came from up on the second balcony, from behind a sniper rifle. Scott squinted a bit, spotting a flair of familiar pink. “Jaal? Is that you?”

“Ryder?”

“It's me.”

“Prove to me that it is so.”

Fair call, Scott thought vaguely, catching Avitus's strange look towards him and electing to ignore it. If they were indeed up against kijor, two pathfinders conveniently finding their way onto an abandoned station seemed too good to be true – a deliberate trick of the mind. Or, even worse, the possibility that the kijor had  _made_ the pathfinders show up. 

Scott lowered his pistol, picking his own memory carefully. “You remember the poem you tried reading to Vetra?”

There was silence for a few moments. “Do  _you_ ?”

“I wasn't there. But Peebee thought it was kind of sweet.”

The sniper rifle lowered, Jaal's head popping up. “It's good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Scott breathed. “Is Vetra up there with you?”

“We heard screaming,” Avitus added.

“She requires urgent medical attention, but the Tempest is no longer responding to hails.”

Scott made his way up the stairs to the balcony, clapping Jaal on the shoulder as he spotted Vetra, almost stopping in his tracks. The turian had passed out, it seems, but had both legs, both arms, and all six fingers. He couldn't say the same for her allocated amount of blood, however.

“Sam, I need an overlay,” Scott said, pulling out medigel from his kit. Vetra's armor was hard casing – he couldn't tell how much she was bleeding just by looking at her, but there were three direct shots to her chest that were mildly concerning. The scanner was brought to life for the first time in what felt like forever, showing three clean shots with no remaining bullets. 

The screaming seemed to have been from Jaal cauterizing her wounds. It lifted a weight off his chest only slightly knowing this had been inflicted by Jaal, and not some crazy torturer in a backroom somewhere like he'd initially feared.

“Avitus, call your crew – get a team down here to pick up Vetra. I can't do anything for her here,” Scott said, standing back up with one last look at Vetra as the turian acknowledged and made the call to the Menae. “Jaal, you know where the others are?”

“Sara and Drack went after Sarissa.”

“And Peebee?”

“If she was with Sara, I failed to see her,” The angara admitted. 

“Sam, could Peebee be on the Tempest?” Scott asked.

“ _I was unable to establish a clear connection with the ship. It is possible that an additional lifesign was masked by plasma radiation.”_ The AI responded.

“Let's hope that's the case.”

Avitus turned back to the two. “My crew is on the way.”

Scott nodded. “Good. Stay here and keep the corridors clear.”

“You're going after the others by yourself?” The turian asked. “We have no idea what we're dealing with – you're walking into this blind.”

Scott glanced at Jaal, his question silent, but the angara knew exactly what he meant. “I've seen three kijor soldiers, followed with additional kett. It is by no means an army, but they are lethal.”

Avitus sighed, resigning himself to Ryder's decision. “Do you at least have a plan?”

“Keep my tactical cloak charged. As soon as I see trouble, I'm going around it until I find Sara and Drack.”

“What about Sarissa?” The turian pressed. “She's around here, too.”

“I'm hoping I find her first.”

* * *

Oh, he found Sarissa first, alright. Pointing a shotgun at his sister's head.

There were some things he'd never forget in the line of duty. Tagomen nailing a geth in just the right spot so that the entirity of the AI's shell exploded into tiny little pieces, being barreled over by an excitable asari, charging forward to the kett leader on Meridian and slaughtering all his forces – but the asari pathfinder, of whom he vouched for regardless of public opinion, mere seconds away from pulling the trigger that would end his sister's life?

In the top three least likeable parts of his job.

Scott's biotics rippled, the Pathfinder ripping the gun right from Sarissa's hands. She was under kijor influence – nose bloody, eyes wide and feral, stance abnormal. If he scanned her, likely SAM would provide a similar analysis. He'd seen it before in the salarian pathfinder. That hadn't been a particularly good day either. 

By the time Sarissa spun around to see what the hell had happened to her weapon, Sara took the chance to elbow her in the nose, pulling at her assault rifle and smashing it across her face. The asari crumpled down to the ground, almost anticlimactically in a way. 

“The hell are you doing here?” Sara demanded as Scott advanced towards her and the unconscious body of the asari pathfinder. 

“Rescuing _you_.” 

He was expecting her to say something along the lines of her having everything 'in hand', but thankfully, the obvious flaws in that statement alone had kept her quiet, staring down at Sarissa and glancing around the room. “Did you find Jaal and Vetra?”

“Avitus is with them,” Scott said.

“Vetra?”

“Not great,” He huffed. “Peebee with you?”

“She's on the Tempest holding everything together with Gil.” She said. “How'd you get here?”

“The Menae. Look, I'd rather we'd play twenty questions after we find Drack. Please tell me he's here with you?”

Sara shook her head, Scott giving a quiet groan of annoyance. “But he's not far. He got hit pretty bad too.”

“Stay here with Sarissa and keep her out. Avitus is coming this way once they get Vetra back to the Menae – do not move from this spot,” He pointed at the ground. “You move, or she runs off, this whole thing is shot. The sooner we're off this hellhole, the better.”

* * *

Once they'd limped everybody back to the Menae, Scott's next set of demands included somehow getting he and Sara onto the Tempest  to check on the rest of the crew . It hadn't been easy – forced to space walk into a depressurized cargo bay was also not what he envisioned doing during his first day back, but everything but the Nomad (thanks gravity locks)  had already been flushed out into space when Sara and Drack made their way onto the fuel station to begin with. The battle that had almost torn the ship apart had been on their way  _into_ the nebula – which more or less explained the lack of spacial protection the Menae had come across.

But if he thought the outside of the Tempest looked back, the inside was ten times worse. Peebee was literally holding the meeting up, structural integrity at it's worst at this specific point. 

The good news was, as soon as Gil reinforced this area, the ship would be ready to fly. But they had no controls.

“Can we control flight from the engine room?” Sara suggested.

Kallo shook his head. “Once we lost the bridge, we lost the ability to re-route control of our engines.”

“ _Pathfinder, I believe the Menae may be able to tow the Tempest back to space dock.”_

“How so?” Scott asked.

“ _Each pathfinding vessel has remote access to each ship's control ling systems.”_

“Work with the turian Sam. As soon as Gil's done, get us out of here. We're sitting ducks like this.”

Sara sighed, taking off the chest piece to her armor. “The good news is, the Menae is more combat ready then the Tempest was.”

“Just because she has a turian gun strapped to her hull, doesn't mean she's invincible,” Scott pointed out. “The kett tore you guys apart, but you took them out too. That's the only reason we got here without a fight.”


	35. Emergence (Part 2)

The two SAMs working together had managed to steer the Tempest far enough away from any impending danger, now on their way back to Nexus space. SAM reported all systems green, but all aboard her were still expecting the hull to fracture somewhere, keenly aware of the now non-existent bridge that had succumbed to plasma fires. But despite Gil's glue and tape patch job, there was no way Scott or Avitus would allow the ship to travel at full speed, so those aboard the ship made of crumbs weren't out of the water.

Up to this point, Gil had been working around the clock keeping the ship together. Now the man was just happy to be breathing air, finally listening to Kallo and Lexi when they ordered him to sit down and rest. When he sat down in the corner of the meeting room for a meal, he'd fallen asleep – and Kallo took it upon himself to look after the ship until such time Gil was back on his feet. Most of the work now was assisting SAM with course corrections lest they fly into asteroids and tear the ship apart once more.

He didn't want to feel angry towards Sara for getting the ship into this mess to begin with, without alerting anyone else, but the more he thought about it, he realized that he knew the consequences of such an order. At the time, she hadn't. According to Lexi, they'd had no idea what they were flying into, were of the understanding that Sarissa was simply looking into an old fuel station that could be re-purposed for the Initiative – by that logic, the distress call from Jaal and Vetra could have easily been misinterpreted as one of them having been severely injured in a freak accident, not an attack. “Under the presented circumstances, she made a reasonable decision,” The doctor told him.

“Yeah,” Scott breathed.

* * *

 

Harry called him back to the Nexus medbay as soon as Vetra woke up – for which he was thankful for, because in another hour, the Menae would drop him back at Prodromos, into the waiting arms of his incredibly worried, heavily pregnant partner.

“You know,” Scott grinned, stepping to her bedside. “When I told Sarissa to take you and Jaal, it was because I thought you were both the best at what you do. This? This is just embarrassing.”

The turian sighed, turning her head to face him. She looked groggy, almost like she didn't have any energy to move her head any further then this. “Hi, Ryder.”

“How you feeling?”

“Better then before,” Her mandibles moved in a mild annoyance, apparently directed at herself rather then Scott's teasing. “I'm up on _all_ the drugs.”

“I've no doubt,” He laughed, rubbing her shoulder. “I wanted to check on you before I headed out, make sure you were doing okay.”

“You're leaving?”

“Knowing my luck, Cora's had a baby without me.” She hadn't. Yet. But she'd admitted to some more serious contractions over the last hour or two - the quicker he got back to Prodromos, the better he'd feel. “Do me a favour and take it easy for the next week or so, okay?”

Vetra sighed again. “No promises. I'm not _really_ a fan of hanging around all this white.”

'All this white'? For some reason, the statement had him cracking a smile and a small laugh. “Alright, then. But once you settle back into your quarters, you're staying off your feet.”

“Aye aye, captain.” She mock saluted, eyes still portraying a kind of grogginess. In all likelihood, she wouldn't remember his visit, but it was worth his making sure she was okay.

* * *

 

If the human pathfinder was taking private calls in the turian pathfinding crew's galley quite frequently, not a single one of them complained. Scott was left undisturbed during his contact with Cora, who hung up and called frequently, not in attempts to alarm him (she'd never), but to abide by his request to keep him updated.

The first law had been laid – she wasn't giving birth whilst on vidcall. Which he figured was very fair.

The news in general was nothing spectacular. Her contractions were more regular, and Ramirez had asked her to stay in the medbay to monitor the goings on – given that she'd had trouble maintaining her energy as a biotic pretty much all the way through the pregnancy, he wasn't taking any chances.

It was entirely possible that they would not make it in time. Lexi had come along anyway, citing her wish to check up on Cora for herself – she'd been her patient for her entire time aboard the Tempest, after all – but she's set her sights squarely on Scott Ryder for this trip, having stayed by his side since they'd left the Nexus, hovering as if he was going to faint at any second.

He wasn't. And, surprisingly, he wasn't about to have the panic attack he'd expected himself to have. Cora's cool, calm and collected response to the whole thing had reassured him, and if the mother of his child wasn't worried, then he really didn't need to be either. Was he anxious? Yes. But he was, among other reasons, more anxious about getting there quickly to _meet_ his child rather then Cora's well-being. As Lexi was repeatedly pointing out, she was in good hands.

“How are you feeling?” The asari doctor asked when she walked back into the Menae's galley, Scott leaning back with his eyes closed. He wasn't sleeping, but trying to calm himself down.

His eyes opened to the ceiling, giving a light huff. “Sick to my stomach.”

Now that the Tempest had been rescued, their crew recovered, and all doing well on the Nexus or otherwise, he'd begun to realize just how long it had been since he'd been this far away from Cora.

Actually, he'd _never_ been this far away from Cora. Having her on vidcall was great, but she'd called it quits after talking with him for two hours straight, citing tiredness and need for sleep. Something that he himself should be doing. He kept telling himself that he wasn't worried about Cora – he wasn't. But he couldn't put a finger on why he felt ill.

“Have you eaten?”

“No,” Scott admitted. “But I'm honestly not hungry.”

Lexi took a seat on the other side of the table. “What's on your mind, then?”

He ran a hand through his hair, sitting up properly as Lexi offered him a glass of water. “Did Sara tell you she was concerned I'd turn out like our father?”

“Is she, now?”

“I think I put those concerns to rest. Hopefully.” Scott shook his head. “I just . . . I can't help thinking about him. About if I'll fall down that rabbit hole, lose touch with her because of my job. Cora and I have talked about it endlessly.”

The asari leaned forward. “What does Cora think?”

“That I'm taking over a year off to be with them both. Apparently that should be proof enough.”

“You're not convinced?”

He sighed. “I don't know a whole lot about my parents' relationship around my birth. Dad was a brilliant soldier, but the thing I remember most about him was that he struggled with us being a family. The most quality time I ever had with him was training in hand to hand combat techniques, and that was for the Initiative.”

There was a pause as Lexi considered his words. “You never told me how he reacted to yours leaving the Alliance.”

Scott glanced up at her, taking a sip of water. “He was upset. Not at me, but at Captain Dolleny. I'd worked hard to get where I was in that squad.”

“He felt guilty about what happened?”

“Yes. He apologized to me – hugged me, even.” He scoffed. “I _really_ didn't want this day to be about daddy issues.”

The asari ignored the off-hand comment, however. “Last time he hugged you was when your mother died. He was affected deeply then, too.”

“We all were.”

Silence again, as Lexi watched him.

“I don't think you give your relationship with your father enough credit,” She finally said. “Alec was flawed – there's no denying that. He could have been a better father, a better partner, but ultimately, he just _was_. And there's nothing either of us can do to change that. But you have the building blocks in front of you for something truly great with your daughter. You can learn from Alec's mistakes, see the problems where he could not. Neither of your are perfect men. And Cora, and your daughter, are not asking you to be perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we all know what's coming.
> 
> Comments feed the author('s ego)! :D Let me know if I'm headed in the right direction or if you've got something you want to see.


	36. CZH

Scott could hardly sit still as they waited for the Menae to land on Eos, and he couldn't rein in his speed when he sprinted to the med centre of Prodromos. Two hours and no word from Cora, and he was losing his mind.

“Pathfinder,” Ramirez greeted as he pulled Scott back from breezing into the room currently housing his partner and child.

“Is Cora alright?”

“She's doing great,” The doctor said, Scott now vaguely aware of Lexi stepping into the room behind him. “They're both clear to leave tomorrow, but tonight, they're here under observation. There was a minor complication during delivery – they're both fine, but the baby's heart rate was higher then usual. I have SAM monitoring her heart rate, so far everything is going well.”

His anxiety flared once more upon hearing the words 'complication during delivery'. That would explain Cora's sudden radio silence, new law be damned. Ramirez continued to explain how all exams had been passed and that this was just a precaution, Lexi rubbing the space between his shoulder blades and doing a surprisingly good job at keeping him grounded and rational.

When he stepped into their room, he found Cora reading a datapad with a baby on her chest. _Their_ baby, currently sleeping rather soundly, her mother looking worn out – hair matted, a bowl and cloth on the bedside table having likely been her quick pass for a shower, and her eyes heavy.

He loved her.

Scott stood at her bedside, pressing his lips to her hair as one of his arms snaked around to cradle both she and the baby. He just breathed for a few more moments, Cora un-moving, but smiling, as he'd find, when he pulled back to stare at the two.

“I'm glad everyone's safe,” Cora mumbled, pulling his hand into hers.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “At the cost of missing my daughter's birth.”

“I think the reasoning is fair. Daddy had to go safe the galaxy again.”

He scoffed, giving a quiet chuckle as he pulled up a chair, leaning his head on Cora's bed to get a close look at their child. “Ramirez said there were problems?”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Elevated heart rate. She's been in the green ever since, though, so I'm not worried.”

“So back to our own bed tomorrow. That'll be fun for us.”

“Hmm,” The biotic smiled again, crunching her nose. “She's not a whole lot to look at yet.”

He couldn't help but laughing, burying his head into Cora's shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Cora breathed. “And we should finalize our daughter's name.”

“Are you happy with it?”

“I am.”

The pathfinder nodded. “Claire Harper.”


	37. Together

“You're pushing yourself too hard . . .”

They'd just finished their third week with baby Claire, and he'd never seen the biotic commando so restless. She was eager to get back into the game, having been sidelined from active duty for a good five months. That wasn't to say that she'd decided to avoid physical exercise during her pregnancy, but now she was going back to her commando routine. It was everything he could do to slow her down a little.

“I'm fine.” She snapped after another pull-up, arms straining somewhat.

Meanwhile, Scott was laid out on the floor, playing with his very young, very observant daughter. Or, rather, he was seeing how long he could keep her attention on him. For now, she was being surprisingly active, a baby death-grip on his pinky, and he couldn't help cooing at her, a smile stretched across his face.

When he heard Cora drop down to the ground, he glanced over his shoulder at her. She was pulling gloves off her hands, a sheen of sweat glistening over her skin as she started to deliberately slow her breathing.

“Scott, we need to talk,” Cora finally said, slapping the gloves down onto the counter.

The pathfinder closed his eyes for a minute, giving a quiet sigh as he rearranged himself and stood, Claire in the corner of his eye.

Cora was fixing herself a water, breathing still a little heavy. “I need to talk to you, about something.”

“Something?”

She gave a cautious glance to Claire. “Something.”

He couldn't help but look between the mother and child, separated by a few metres. But it felt like they were further apart. It'd been three weeks, and at every turn, Cora had avoided Claire. The first few days were fine – or, at least, he assumed they'd been fine – before the biotic had started _avoiding_ their child. This was a hard thing to accomplish, but she'd managed to do so.

Something had been eating at her, and Scott knew it. She wasn't acting like herself, having become hard to approach, to talk to. At first, he'd thought it was an adjustment period, but the day he realized something was up, he told Lexi, and Lexi in turn said she'd bring it up with Cora.

That had been days ago now.

"I spoke to Lexi," Cora said after a few moments of silence, looking down at her glass. “I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry.”

He leaned against the counter, clasping his hands together as he rested on his elbows. “You don't have to-”

“Yes, I do.” She swallowed. “I've been . . . distant, and harsh on you, and . . . Claire.”

Aside from handing Claire to and fro, Cora had hardly touched him either.

“Claire is a big change,” Scott said, looking up at Cora. “I never expected us to be able to handle this as well as we have.”

“That's the thing, Scott – I don't _feel_ like I'm handling this at _all_. I don't feel like myself, and I _hate_ it - I hate that it's done this to me, to you, to _Claire_.” Her glass was put down onto the bench as she stepped away, her hands on her hips.

Scott watched her, standing back up properly. “Tell me what you need.”

Cora turned back to him, her eyes more tired than he'd ever seen them. “I just . . . need time.”

“Then time you'll have.” He nodded once.

And for the first time in weeks, she'd approached him. And when she buried herself in his chest, finally breaking down into sobs, he held her tight, just glad that she was back in his arms.

The anger and frustration at herself, the push to get herself back to her original standard despite not being ready to do so, was something he hadn't been able to handle. Cora with her walls up was impossible to work with, to gauge, and if she refused help, there was no way to get through to her.

But this? Crying uncontrollably into his chest? As bleak as it was, this felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders. This was something he _could_ handle. She'd just needed the time to realize that she wasn't in this alone.


End file.
